Jake the Cake's Poetry for Children

An Elementary Tongue Twister.

Paul Hughes — Sat, 14 Nov 2009 18:37:27 +0000

There is hydrogen and helium,
then lithium, berilium,
boron, carbon, nitrogen
and oxygen (a gas).
There’s fluoride, neon, sodium,
a metal called “magnesium,”
another: “aluminium”
and silicon makes glass.
Phosphorus is poisonous
and sulphur is malodorous.
Chlorine keeps pools clean for us.
We use argon in lights.
Nineteenth comes potassium
and twentieth is calcium.
There’s over ninety more of ‘em,
too many to recite.

.
You’ll find their names all written in
The Periodic Table.
I’ve listed twenty, to begin.
Learn more if you are able!

Paul Hughes 2009

Uncle Ted

Paul Hughes — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 21:46:00 +0000

That funny smell is Uncle Ted,

for though he’s been a long time dead,

we didn’t bury him, instead,

we left him in his chair.

And though we dust him twice a day,

to keep the rats and flies away,

the Health and Safety people say

“he can’t keep sitting there!”

I like to watch him turning green,

but feel quite sad for Auntie Jean.

She does her best to keep him clean.

She scrapes away the mould.

And when, each night, she grabs his head

to drag his body up to bed,

she huffs and puffs and turns bright red,

for she is getting old.

One day Aunt Jean will wake up dead.

We’ll leave her resting in her bed,

Right next to poor old Uncle Ted,

their house, a mausoleum.

And I will make a thousand pounds

by selling hotdogs in the grounds,

when people come from all around

and pay me cash to see ‘em.

Paul Hughes, 2009

Posh Zombie

Paul Hughes — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 00:06:57 +0000

We’re rotten, we stink, but we’re not what you think:
those zombies you see on TV.
We’re cultured, refined, so we hope you won’t mind
if we munch on your brains for our tea.
We know some undead are quite crude and ill-bred.
They eat with no trace of decorum.
They chomp and they slurp, yes they dribble and burp.
I do think your brain’s too good for ‘em.
So, come to our table, as soon as you’re able,
we’ve cutlery, napkins and wine.
We’ll fry your grey matter with parsley and batter.
I’m sure you’ll just think it divine!

Paul Hughes, 2009

The invention of the hot air baaaaaaloon: 1783 AD

Paul Hughes — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 14:40:58 +0000

The sheep cried “Baa! I’m scared of heights!”
The chicken clucked and squawked with fright
The duck replied “we’ll be alright”
And quacked a cheerful tune:
“Although we’re still ascending
And there’s no use pretending
unless we start descending
We’re sure to reach the moon.”
,
The crowd below cheered “hip hooray!”
to Jo and Jacques Montgolfier.
“Ze French have beaten gravité
With this hot air balloon!
And though it’s very nice to see
a sheep, a hen, a duck float free,
can we fly too? Oh, please say ‘oui!’
We’d like to try it soon.”
,
So, Monsieur Jo Montgolfier
declared “These beasts have shown the way!
It seems quite safe, and so I say
we’ll send a man up soon!”
Men flew second, sheep were first
But wait, there’s more, and even worse:
a monkey orbited The Earth
before we reached the moon.
,
Paul Hughes, 2009

School’s out for EVER!

Paul Hughes — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 14:24:54 +0000

I was working as a doctor in the local A&E.
A boy came in, his parents wept and wailed.
Upon examination it was plain for all to see,
his heart was weak, his lungs and kidneys failed.
The look of pain upon his face, too dreadful to remember,
his final words: “Why must life be so cruel?
My will to live has disappeared, for now it is September.
I’d really rather die than go to school!”
,
Paul Hughes, 2009

Freddie the Frog

Paul Hughes — Mon, 10 Aug 2009 16:14:53 +0000

Such wicked deception, Fred loved to play tricks on

the girls who lived down by the stream.

He lied and deceived them, he’d kiss them and leave them.

His crown was not all that it seemed.

Amphibious malice, he said he’d a palace.

“A witch turned me into a frog.”

He promised to marry: Jane, Cath, June and Carrie,

If only they’d give him a snog.

His breath stank of flies and the girls were surprised,

he didn’t turn into a Prince.

He wasn’t a Royal, just slimy, disloyal.

Those poor girls have kissed no-one since.

Their parents, the priest and the chief of police

said something would have to be done.

A Cherokee snail set off on his trail,

for Freddie had gone on the run.

The snail prevailed and Freddie turned pale,

when trapped by a posse of bugs.

He tried to escape from this terrible scrape,

but croaked with a gut full of slugs.

Paul Hughes 2009

Golden Locks, Iron Bars

Paul Hughes — Tue, 14 Apr 2009 09:14:13 +0000

Goldilocks was caught at last,
they put her into care.
The date was set, the jury found,
The sheriff fetched the bears.
He told them they would have to stand
and tell Judge all they knew.
Father bear said that he would
and Mummy bear would too.
Young baby bear jumped up and down
and asked “will I be there?
She stole my food, she wrecked my bed
She broke my little chair!”
And so the three bears went to court.
Her guilt was plain to see.
Her face was long, the trial short,
The jury cried “GUILTY!”
But when they tried to take her down
she cried “these cuffs are tight!”
They tried again, they were “too loose!”
The third time was “just right!”
,
Paul Hughes 2009

The alternative last few lines, which I prefer but which parents might baulk at, are as follows:

But when they tried to string her up

She cried “this noose is tight!”

They tried again, it was “too loose,”

the third time was “just right.”

The Dung Beatles

Paul Hughes — Wed, 08 Apr 2009 08:02:55 +0000

Dung, dung, glorious dung!
Elephant faeces just melt on the tongue.
Freshly made guano, divine! Oh I drool
for roasted, fried, boiled or fricasseed stool.
Come on boys, sing it! Cry out with those lungs!
“Please bring us a plateful of dung!”
,
Paul Hughes 2009

My Heart Flies

Paul Hughes — Sun, 01 Mar 2009 09:35:47 +0000

I love you Miss Fly.
You’re filthy, that’s why!
All covered in grease, dirt and grime.
I gasp at your beauty
my dung-munching cutie,
and pray that one day you’ll be mine.
,
Let’s fly to a pile
of garbage so vile
it makes quite the loveliest food.
We’ll feast there for days.
Together we’ll raise
a horrible, maggoty, brood.
,
Paul Hughes 2009

The Tears of a King

Paul Hughes — Sun, 15 Feb 2009 12:47:27 +0000

I loved that little antelope

but knew I never had a hope;

how could such beauty love a beast like me?

My love was true, I loved her well,

I love you still, my sweet gazelle;

Why did it have to end in tragedy?

Each day I sent my love a rose;

I hoped its scent would please her nose.

I sang to her each night beneath the moon.

But all she did was laugh at me:

“oh, mangy-mane, you sack of fleas!

You hurt my ears. Why can’t you sing in tune?”

Her insults made me feel so sad,

but they grew worse and I grew mad;

for, as you would expect, I have my pride.

I growled and roared, I bit and clawed,

I ate the doe I had adored;

my darling dish, sweet supper, lunch-time bride.

I did her wrong, I can’t pretend

that I was right, I won’t defend

my actions; for I know it’s no use trying.

But surely you ‘ll agree with me

that it’s a great mistake to be

so rude to such a fearsome looking lion.

Paul Hughes 2009