Abused Nursery Rhymes

Well, we are moved, so I've decided it must be time to get back to blogging. To celebrate the occasion, I'm heralding my own return with some slaughtered nursery rhymes I wrote in a fit of poetic angst (or something).

To the measure of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star":

Wobble, wobble, little top;
You'll fall over if you stop.
Then I'll pick you up again,
And give you another spin.

--

Scurry, scurry, little mouse,
Running all around the house,
Nibbling all my favorite food.
If I catch you, you'll be screwed.

--

Wander, wander, vagabond,
Here today, tomorrow gone,
Never staying in one place,
Always searching for your space.

To the measure of "Mary Had a Little Lamb":

Adam had a beer bottle
Which once was full of beer,
But then he shared it with his wife,
And now it's gone. Oh dear!

--

Jimmy had a pogo stick.
He rode it round and round.
Well, actually, that's not quite true:
He rode it up and down.

A Toast to Teachers

Here's one for the teachers, who daily do their best
To answer tricky questions like, "Will this be on the test?"
Who know such things as tangents, and what Maximus confess'd,
and how to use the library to make a book request.
For every single teacher there are 5 who do their best
to mimic the behavior of a common household pest.
So drink one to the teachers; they never get much rest,
and often find themselves the bottom of some cruel jest.