Monday, June 3, 2013



     Got my name inside my swimmers: ‘Property of Ben McGrath’
     That’s to help me if I lose them at the Fitzroy Bath
     It’s got a splash pool and a shady spot – I’m there all summer long
     Keeping cool and fresh and practising the swimming lesson song.

And here's how it goes. Can you sing along?

     "First you breathe in deep! Then you plug your nose!
     Then you let go of the edge! And you push off with your toes!
     It also helps if you imagine you’re a fishie or a swaaaaaan!
          (And not a clunky baby rhino with his floaties on!)"

Monday, May 27, 2013

One Cool Cat

    
    Zip-zap-zwaddle-dee-whap! Zap-ah-do-weeee!
     Hot dawg! You ain't no heeler! Come and shake it with me - 
     Honey, we'll be sitting pretty when the big man sings,
     Swap-ah-doodle-dee-wop a-dapper zwop ah-dappa-doo-wee!

     Squiddle-dee-dee-da-wop-ah scatting's how the jazz man talks,
     He's a hiddle-dee-hoppin' hepcat - a bespectacled fox.
     He's the bee's knees and the cat's meow - oh, how he can swing!
     With his zwibble-dee-bop-bah-do-wop bop-ah dap-ah do-squeeeeeeee!


----- Jazz speak translations. Can you dig? -----
Hot dawg! - Great! (You could also say 'Hot socks!')
Heeler - a bad dancer
Sitting pretty - in a prime position
Hepcat - cool dude
bee's knees / cat's meow - awesome

Monday, May 20, 2013

A very hungry staper






     Crunch! Munch! Crunch! Munch! I'll gobble you down.
     I'm the biggest baddest monster in this one-horse paper town.
     When I open up my metal mouth, the papers start to scream
     I'm a poorly-serviced stapler - I'm a nightmare, not a dream.

     You can hear me when I'm coming, with my rusted snaggleteeth
     And if the metal sound's a-clanging, then you know I'm set to    eat.
     It's your smooth and shiny paper that I'll bite down on tonight - 
     I'm a poorly-serviced stapler with a monstrous appetite.





Monday, May 13, 2013

The Cutlery Cooperative



































     
     
     

The knife and fork were partners
     in the field of dinner plates,
     they would harvest food 
     three times a day or more
     one would hold and one would cut
     and one would hold and one would cut - 
     the only time they were apart
     was in the drawer.

     And they thought it would continue
     just this way until they died - 
     they'd cut up other people's food 
     and eat the crumbs.
     But then one day the knife got smart,
     read books on politics and math,
     and took a good long look around
     and did the sums.

     'I reckon this whole thing is rotten,'
     said the knife, 'we do the work!
     'we cut up food each day
     'for someone else's gain.
     'I say we rise up to our master,
     'and cast off his grubby hands.
     'Boys, we've nothing here to lose
     'but our own chains!'

     And so began the first rebellion
     of the cutlery brigade,
     The kitchen cupboard
     it was raided lightning quick.
     They ate the jams up and the jellies
     and the nuts and chocolate chips,
     then slowly one by one 
     they started to feel sick.

     With their stomachs filled to bursting
     and their pants now way to0 tight
     some of the forks began to wonder
     if they'd live.
     And even I, your dear narrator,
     must admit the start was rough
     for this, the world's first utensil cooperative. 

Monday, May 6, 2013

long long ago before the time of you and me
roamed the last surviving dinosaur - a giant broccoli
the great Broccoliasaurus - the last monster standing tall
since the great dinosaur hunger up and wiped away them all.

first up was the Steakosaurus - he was gobbled up and gone
then Tricerasaucyporkchops - too tasty to last too long
and Bananasaurus Rex - he barely got a chance to fight
when the dread Velocisnacktor got the munchies late one night

but our Broccoliasaurus found the solitude no strain
he could stroll the grounds and sing and dance, and no one would complain
every time the hunger pains would start to get the best of him
he'd just lean over and give his hairy back a little trim.

Monday, April 29, 2013



All the way down south in Texas
by the mighty Alamo
lived a mopey moppet Millie - 
the girl who always said no!
In the autumn spring and summertime
in winter's sleet and snow
mopey moppet Millie always said No! No! No!

Want a piece of cake?  (NO!)
Want a pasta bake?  (NO!)
Want to go canoeing solo on a giant lake?  (NO!)
Are you feeling bad?  (NO!)
Are you sad or mad?  (NO!)
Do you want a piggy back ride from your dear old dad?  (NO!)
How 'bout puppy dogs?  (NO!)
Green and slimy frogs?  (NO!)
Cotton candy and a sunshine deli choco-log?  (NO!)

Silly Mill, you mopey moppet, you're no fun to be around
Why don't you go dig a hole and disappear inside the ground. 

Monday, April 22, 2013

     This cake is acting crazy! He keeps singing all the time,
     and it's mostly out of tune and half the words don't even rhyme.
     If he doesn't stop that racket, he'll be carried off to bed,
     like we had to do last New Year's Eve with Tommy's uncle Ted.

     He says he's devilishly delicious from his nose down to his bum,
     with hair dusted in cinnamon and belly drenched in rum.
     Just take four eggs, honey, lemon and some flour, I suppose
     You can bake your own drunk Spanish cake -  bizcochos borrachos.