The Pestilential Little Mouse by Michael Healy

The Pestilential Little Mouse

A sweet little thing – perhaps not!

How dare you come into my house

You pestilential little mouse

You use our home as though it’s yours

Upset us all without good cause

Disturb us as we fall asleep

With sounds of tiny running feet

Gnaw the carpets and the doors

Deposit mess across the floors

Be off with you, you little pest

And take away your rancid nest

Go back into the fields you know

Feast on seeds in furrowed row,

For there the farmer, if he sees

You munching on his fresh green peas

Or hiding in his stooks of corn

Will surely, and here I must warn,

Set his cat to seek you out

And that, I am sure I have no doubt

Will bring about the sorry end

Of you my pestilential friend

Michael Healy

 

 

Poo-Sticks by Michael Healy

Remember: actions have their consequences

 

Mary Porter sat on the Bridge

Playing poosticks with Annie Ridge

Along came little Tommy Cotton

And pinched that Mary Porter’s bottom.

Mary jumped so very high

That all the poosticks they did fly

And looking up towards the sky

They hit young Tommy in the eye.

With one great yell he did leap                                    

And lost the balance on his feet,

Fell off the bridge, and with a scream,

Went kersplash into the stream.

 

Help me, help me! He did cry

Annie, on her feet, said “why”?

‘I cannot swim, I will drown!

‘Oh do not be a silly clown!

Said Mary feeling very cross

‘Drowning you would be no loss!

‘O Tommy you are such a fool

I know the water’s very cool

But why not stand up on your feet

The stream is only one foot deep.

Tommy to his feet did get

Truly he was very wet.

‘Get my poosticks’ came Mary’s shout

‘Before that stream you dare climb out!

‘We want to finish off our game!

Came Annie’s comment, just the same.

‘If you don’t, it is you we throw

Back in the water and watch you flow

Under the bridge and out the side,

All six feet long and three feet wide.

 

The moral of this story’s clear

Dear reader if you happen near                   

That little bridge across that stream

Where people by the side do lean

Watching poo-sticks in the flow

Gently bobbing under go,

That lesson must not be forgotten,

Do not pinch them on the bottom!             

The land of Ling-Tong Boodle by Michael Healy

The land of Ling-Tong Boodle

by  Michael Healy

 

Down in the land of Ling-Tong Boodle,

Especially in the forest of Lisbet Doodle,

Lives a prehistoric land,

Where dinosaurs feed hand-in-hand.

 

Ling-Tong Boodle is a very dark place,

Just not fit for the human race.

With squeaks and creaks and all strange noises,

There is never the sound of human voices.

Bubbling mud and thick smelly fog,

And creatures the size of a twenty-foot dog!

 

Overhead flies an Archaeopteryx, looking for some prey,

Whilst a Stegosaurus lumbers along, the same route every day.

With long sharp teeth which rip its food in slices,

The Triceratops watches, a meat-chewing Ceolophysis.

 

I really must get away from here,

I can feel my growing, shivering fear.

But then I turn in my comfy bed,

And gradually awake my sleepy head.

My eyes open wide, it’s all been a dream

Ling-Tong Boodle? Just my nightmare’s scene.

     BUT!!

I pull back the curtains and the sun shines for us,

What’s that on the lawn?

                         It’s             a            TYRANNOSAURUS!!!!!           

                                                                                       Michael Healy