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There’s A Poem

In your granny's crumble, there's a poem
In a beggar's mumble, there’s a poem
In the bumble of the bee
In the tumble of the sea
And in the rumble of your tummy, there’s a poem

In the fog of your brains, there’s a poem
Turn the cog, release the chains, there’s a poem
Written on a rainbow
Beyond where the trains go
And which way the weather vane's blow, there’s a poem

When your tongue is tied, there's a poem
When your dog has died, there’s a poem
When your backside is too wide
For a ride down the slide
And you've no pride left to hide, there's a poem

And when the wind is blowing and the trees are to and fro-ing
And when the grass is growing and one man goes out mowing
And when from a long throw-in the ball plays Jermaine Defoe in
And he gets a toe in but the ball it doesn’t go in
And the frustration is showing there’s a...........punch-up

In everything you hear, there's a poem
Up in the atmosphere, there's a poem
And when I think I think there isn't
The answer's always different
Because if I really listen, then there's a poem
 
PHOTO: PETER FRY  

PHOTO: PETER FRY

 


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DADDY DISAStar FROM tHE DICTIONARY OF DADS

He lives in a house that's all lopsided
Where the chores aren't done and the drawers aren't tidied
His car is wrecked and his driving's reckless
His favourite outfit is his breakfast
How did he get to become a father?
Ladies and Gentlemen, it's Daddy Disastar
The hand he lends is crammed with thumbs
One job to do's too much at once
Who broke the bath? Do you have to ask?
Can he fix it? No, he can't
If you want to make a mess then meet the master
Welcome to the world of Daddy Disastar

Who cut himself on a pencil sharpener?
Coloured his face in flouresent marker?
Set his hair on fire with a hramless sparkler?
Sat his bottom down on a wet banana?
Yes, you must've guessed the answer
Ladies and Gentlemen, it's Daddy Disastar!

 
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JUmble boy from the jumble book show and anthology
(macmillan, edited by Roger stevens)

He reads the same simple sentence again
The sense of it, simply, will not sink in
He’s the Jumble Boy who can’t spell his name

The panic runs manic about his brain
Letters give him jitters: jest and jinx him
He reads the same simple sentence again

But it’s too hard for him. He can’t explain
The problem is he can’t stop from thinking
He’s the Jumble Boy who can’t spell his name

Old Fog can’t reach him but to shout his shame
He’s not got a clue, she’s not an inkling
He reads the same simple sentence again

One dreamday he’ll teach them. He’ll find his aim
And write the world such a verse worth printing
Of the Jumble Boy who can’t spell his name

But now Jane likes Peter. Peter likes Jane
And he hates the school and all who shrink him
He reads the same simple sentence again
Just the Jumble Boy who can’t spell his name

 

 
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grandad's will from let's recycle grandad
(a & C Black, edited by roger stevens)

Though Grandad's gone, he still lives on
His features not forgotten
For he's left Dad the face he had
And me, his windy bottom