There was an old woman from Hull In her garden she kept a big bull He's an Aberdeen Angus and gorgeous His dangly bits are really enormous His coat used fifty kilos of wool!
I've certainly messed up this fine thread I mustn't post when it's time for bed But we still enjoy taking part I suppose poetry is a form of art Or should we start knitting instead?
We could do rhymes with no reason Think carefully then ease in Going wrong is no big deal Though it makes GPS squeal We certainly can't compare it to treason!
On Friday we'll throw a big party Let's turn up all hale and hearty Let the merriment start It gladdens the heart Think I'm tempted to be a bit naughty
There’s never a right time to say, That you wish they would all go away, They won’t take the hint, Munch their After Eight Mint, Then frolic about in the hay.
Some of these rhymes make me laugh But I've been known to make the odd gaffe blush Surely this adds to the pleasure? And enriches our leisure So say I, the pig and giraffe.