Welcome to my Blog which combines the unlikely topics of supply teaching with progressive rock. Here you will find my ongoing 'Diary of a Surviving Supply Teacher' and a variety of lists/ timelines/ articles on progressive rock.

Tuesday, 15 March 2011

Poetry by John Lennon

An Alphabet

A is for Parrot which we can plainly see
B is for glasses which we can plainly see
C is for plastic which we can plainly see
D is for Doris
E is for binoculars I'll get in five
F is for Ethel who lives next door
G is for orange because we love to eat when we can get them because they come from abroad
H is for England and (Heather)
I is for monkey we see in the tree
J is for parrot which we can plainly see
K is for shoetop we wear to the ball
L is for Land because brown
K is for Venezula where the oranges come from
N is for Brazil near Venezuela (very near)
O is for football which we kick about a bit
T is for Tommy who won the war
Q is a garden which we can plainly see
R is for intestines which hurt when we dance
S is for pancake or whole-wheat bread
U is for Ethel who lives on the hill
P is arab and her sister will
V is for me
W is for lighter which never lights
X is for easter--have one yourself
Y is a crooked letter and you can't straighten it
Z is for Apple which we can plainly see

This is my story both humble and true
Take it to pieces and mend it with glue

About the Awful

I was bored on the 9th of Octover 1940 when, I believe, the Nasties were still booming us led by Madalf Heatlump (Who had only one). Anyway, they didn't get me. I attended to varicous schools in Liddypol. And still didn't pass-much to my Aunties supplies. As a memebr of the most publified Beatles me and (P, G, and R's) records might seem funnier to some of you than this book, but as far as I'm conceived this correction of short writty is the most wonderfoul larf I've ever ready.
God help and breed you all.

At The Denis

Madam: I have a hallowed tooth that suffer me grately.
Sir: Sly down in that legchair Madam and open your gorble wide - your mouse is all but toothless.
Madam: Alad! I have but eight tooth remaining (eight tooth left).
Sir: Then you have lost eighty three.
Madam: Impossyble.
Sir: Everydobby knows there are foor decisives two canyons and ten grundies, which make thirsty two in all.
Madam: But I have done everything to save my tooth.
Sir: Perhumps! but to no avague.
Madam: Ah! why did I not insult you sooner!
Sir: To late, it must be now or neville.
Madam: You will pull it out for me then!
Sir: No, madman, I will excrete it.
Madam: But that is very painfull.
Sir: Let me see it - Crack! there it be madacre.
Madam: But sir I wished to keep (was anxious to keep) that tooth.
Sir: It was all black and moody, and the others are too.
Madam: Mercy - I will have none to eat with soon.
Sir: A free Nasty Heath set is good, and you will look thirty years jungle.
Madam: (Aside) Thirty years jungle; (Aloud) Sir I am no catholic, pull out all my stumps.
Sir: O.K. Gummy.

Deaf Ted, Danoota, (And Me)

Thorg hilly grove and burly ive,
Big daleys grass and tree
We clobber ever gallup
Deaf Ted, Danoota, and me.

Never shall we partly stray,
Fast stirrup all we three
Fight the battle mighty sword
Deaf Ted, Danoota, and me.

With faithful frog beside us,
Big mighty club are we
The battle scab and frisky dyke
Deaf Ted, Danoota, and me.

We fight the baddy baddies,
For colour, race and cree
For Negro, Jew and Bernie
Deaf Ted, Danoota, and me.

Thorg Billy grows and Burnley ten,
And Aston Villa three
We clobber ever gallup
Deaf Ted, Danoota, and me.

So if you hear a wonderous sight,
Am blutter or at sea,
Remember whom the mighty say
Deaf Ted, Danoota, and me -
(sometimes we bring our friend, Malcolm.)

The Fat Budgie

I have a little budgie
He is my very pal
I take him walks in Britain
I hope I always shall.

I call my budgie Jeffrey
My grandads name's the same
I call him after grandad
Who had a feathered brain.

Some people don't like budgies
The little yellow brats
They eat them up for breakfast
Or give them to their cats.

My uncle ate a budgie
It was so fat and fair.
I cried and called him Ronnie
He didn't seem to care

Although his name was Arthur
It didn't mean a thing.
He went into a petshop
And ate up everything.

The doctors looked inside him,
To see what they could do,
But he had been too greedy
And died just like a zoo.

My Jeffrey chirps and twitters
When I walk into the room,
I make him scrambled egg on toast
And feed him with a spoon.

He sings like other budgies
But only when in trim
But most of all on Sunday
Thats when i plug him in.

He flies about the room sometimes
And sits upon my bed
And if he's really happy
He does it on my head.

He's on a diet now you know
From eating ear too much
They say if he gets fatter
He'll have to wear a crutch.

It would be funny wouldn't it
A budgie on a stick
Imagine all the people
Laughing til they're sick.

So that's my budgie Jeffrey
Fat and yellow too
I love him more than daddie
And I'm only thirty-two.

Good Dog Nigel

Good dog Nigel
Arf, Arf, he goes, a merry sight
Our hairy little friend
Arf,Arf, upon the lampost bright
Arfing around the bend
Nice dog! Goo Boy,
Waggie tail and beg,
Clever Nigel, jump for joy

I Sat Belonely

I sat belonely down a tree,
humbled fat and small.
A little lady sing to me
I couldn't see at all.

I'm looking up and at the sky,
to find such wondrous voice.
Puzzly puzzle, wonder why,
I hear but have no choice.

'Speak up, come forth, you ravel me',
I potty menthol shout.
'I know you hiddy by this tree'.
But still she won't come out.

Such softly singing lulled me sleep,
an hour or two or so
I wakeny slow and took a peep
and still no lady show.

Then suddy on a little twig
I thought I see a sight,
A tiny little tiny pig,
that sing with all it's might.

'I thought you were a lady'.
I giggle, - well I may,
To my suprise the lady,
got up - and flew away.

I Wandered

On balmy seas and pernie schooners
On strives and warming things
In a peanut coalshed clad
I wandered happy as a jew
To meet good Doris King.

Past grisby trees and hulky builds
Past ratters and bradder Sheep
In a resus baby stooped
I wandered hairly as A dog
To get a goobites sleep.

Down hovey lanes and stoney claves
Down rickeets and sticklysIn a fatty hebrew gurth
I wandered humply as a sock
To meet bad Bernie Smith.

A Letter

Why are there not more pidgers and writty about our
favorit group (Berneese und zee Rippers). There are thirty-nine
of them, you know. We like it cause Alec jumb about and shoes.
Pleese send a stabbed undressed envelope of Bern and Ern
dancing and doing their splendid to entertain a most deserting
group and we hope this fires you as you keeler.
An admirrer.


The Moldy Moldy Man

I'm a moldy moldy man
I'm moldy thru and thru
I'm a moldy moldy man
You would not think it's true
I'm moldy till my eyeballs
I'm moldy til my toe
I will not dance I shyballs
I'm such a Humble Joe.

Randolf's Party

It was Chrisbus time but Randolph was alone. Where were all his good pals. Bernie, Dave, Nicky, Alice, Beddy, Freba, Viggy, Nigel, Alfred, clive, Stan, Frenk, Tom, Harry, George, Harold? Where were they on this day? Randolf looged saggly at his only Chrispbut cart from his dad who did not live there.

'I can't understan this being so aloneley on the one day of the year when one would surely spect a pal or two?' thought Rangolf. Hanyway he carried on putting up the desicrations and muzzle toe. All of a surgeon there was amerry timble on the door. Who but who could be knocking on my door? He opened it and there standing there who? but only his pals. Bernie, Dave, Nicky, Alice, Beddy, Freba, Viggy, Nigel, Alfred, Clive, Stan, Frenk, Tom, Harry, Geroge, Harolb weren't they?

Come on in old pals buddys and mates. With a big griff on his face Randoff welcombed them. In they came jorking and labbing shoubing 'Haddy Grimmble, Randoob.' and other hearty, and then they all jumbed on him and smite him with mighty blows about his head crying, 'We never liked you all the years we've known you. You were never raelly one of us you know, soft head.'

They killed him you know, at least he didn't DIE alone did he? Merry Chrustchove, Randolf old pal buddy.

Sad Michael

There was no reason for Michael to be sad that morning, (the little wretch); everyone liked him, (the scab). He'd had a hard days night that day, for Michael was a Cocky Watchtower. His wife Bernie, who was well controlled, had wrabbed his norman lunch but he was still sad. It was strange for a man whom have everything and a wife to boot. At 4 o'clock when his fire was burking bridely a Poleaseman had clubbed in to parse the time around. ‘Goodeven Michael,’ the Poleaseman speeg, but Michael did not answer for he was debb and duff and could not speeg.

‘How's the wive, Michael’ spoge the Poleaseman.

‘Shuttup about that!’

‘I thought you were debb and duff and could not speeg,’ said the Poleaseman.

‘Now what am I going to do with all my debb and duff books?’ said Michael, realising straight away that here was a problem to be reckoned with.

Snore Wife and Some Several Dwarts

Once upon upon in a dizney far away - say three hundred year agoal if you like-there lived in a sneaky forest some several dwarts or cretins; all named - Sleezy, Grumpty, Sneeky, Dog, Smirkey, Alice? Derick - and Wimpey. Anyway they all dug about in a diamond mind, which was rich beyond compere. Every day when they came hulme from wirk, they would sing a song - just like ordinary wirkers - the song went something like - 'Yo, ho! Yo, ho! it's off to wirk we go!' - which is silly really considerable they were comeing hulme. (Perhaps ther was slight housework to be do.)

One day howitzer they (Dwarts) arrived home, at aprodestant six o'cloth, and who? - who do they find? - but only Snore Wife, asleep in Grumpty's bed. He didn't seem to mine. 'Sambody's been feeding my porrage!' screams Wimpey, who was wearing a light blue pullover. Meanwife in a grand Carstle, not so a mile away, a womand is looging in her daily mirror shouting, 'Mirror mirror on the wall, whom is de fairy in the land.' which doesn't even rhyme. 'Cassandle!' answers the mirror. 'Chirsh O'Malley' studders the womand who appears to be a Queen or a witch or an acorn.

A Surprise for Little Bobby

It was little Bobby's birthmark today and he got a surprise. His very fist was lopped off, (The War) and he got a birthday hook!
All his life Bobby had wanted his very own hook; and now on his 39th birthday his pwayers had been answered. The only trouble was they had send him a left hook and ebry dobby knows that it was Bobby's right fist that was missing as it were.
What to do was not thee only problem: Anyway he jopped off his lest hand and it fitted like a glove. Maybe next year he will get a right hook, who knows?

Two Virgins

WONSAPONATIME there was two Ballons called Jock and Yono. They were strictly in love-bound to happen in a million years. They were together man. Unfortunatimetable they both seemed to have previous experience--which kept calling them one way oranother (you know howitis). But they battled on against overwhelming oddites, includo some of there beast friends. Being in love they cloong even more together man--but some of the poisonessmonster of outrated buslodedshithrowers did stick slightly and tey occaasionaly had to resort to the drycleaners. Luckily this did not kill them and they werent banned from the olympic games. They lived hopefully every after, and who could blame them...

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Originally posted on Tuesday, 15 March 2011

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