More Poems by Max Knuth  

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These are a collection

Of Dad’s recollection

Of verses and ditties and prose

Some droll, sad, or sillier

Obscure or familiar

And some of them nobody knows.

We didn’t know whether

To put them together

To keep them from fading away,

But we thought they deserved

To be someway preserved.

Someone may enjoy them someday

So pause for a while

And have a brief smile

Or perhaps even shed a small tear

Cause for better or worse

The stories and verse

Are compiled for posterity here


Limericks and Assorted Verse

 A birthmark on Princess Maureen

Was the strangest sight that ever was seen

On part of her chest

Was the family crest

And the full score to “God Save the Queen”


A trainer training a trainee

Said training is draining you see

Cause my brain is quite strained

Since I’ve just been trained

By a trainer just trained to train me


A lisping young fellow named Smith

Said “Doctor my problem ith thith

I’ve broken the thtring

That wath tied to my thing

And now I can’t find it to…”


There once was a soldier named Tuttle

Neath some barbed wire attempted to scuttle

To avoid sniper fire

But his rump snagged a wire

Which required an instant rebuttal


Two twins named Charlie and Sue

Did something most siblings don’t do

Throughout life was said

That they shared the same bed

And I guess they’re Siamese, it’s true!


There was a young lady from Leeds

Who injested a packet of seeds

She died suddenly

Cause she lacked 2-4D

And thus perished from terminal weeds


Said a certain young leper named Hugh

As his left foot came off in his shoe

“I am filled with remorse

At my action so coarse

It really was rotten to do.”


Said the sheik as he brushed off the sand

“In truth as a storm, that was grand

But I seem to have trouble

With my double bubble

I can’t pick it up in my hand.”


Said the sheik who rode in from the desert

As sad as an Arab can be

“I find gum adheres to a camel

Just as tightly as it sticks to me.”


Said a certain young leper named Hugh

It is most unhappily true

But whenever I feel rotten

About this bletch I’ve gotten

I reckon rotten’s one thing I can do


Rando Spangelo

That macho fellow

Comes in a wearing boots and Spurs

When days grow chilly

Though it looks silly

He starts wearing hats and furs

He ain’t a gaucho

More like a groucho

I’m sure he’s never seen a horse

I won’t continue

This song into

Because the lyrics may get coarse


A Chinese soprano named Ling

Would slobber whenever she’d sing

And to see famed diva

Bedecked with salivia

Is really a very grim thing.


A cannibalistic young man

Came from China and had the name Chan

He said diddely dam

I’d like to fry Sam

But I simply forgot my Sam-pan


The hangman tripped the lever

The trapdoor opened wide

The body dropped quite quickly

And disappeared inside

But twenty minutes later

The man was still alive

And when they cut him down

They asked him how he could survive

He said without amazement

I’m really not surprised

No way that noose could choke me

My collar’s panforized


A fellow from West Indonesia

Once suffered a case of amnesia

He thought his wife

Was destroying his life

So he traded her in for a freesia


A fellow from South Indonesia

Injested some Milk of Magnesia

When he has to sneeze

He crosses his knees

We all hope he does not get amnesia


There once was a man named Spangelo

Who liked to eat anchovy jello

All the cats on the street

Used to trail round his feet

He was such a romantic young fellow


The cowboys rode out on the prairies

With six guns strapped onto their hips

They slept with their heads on their saddles

And their mattress was buffalo chips.

They feasted on beans and beef jerky

And seemed quite aloof and here’s why:

With habits like those and that diet

Other folks got too nearby.

The cowboys may lack social graces

You may find their manners quite coarse

Another thing you’ll quickly notice:

A cowboy smells worse than his horse.

The In’s and Out’s of Digestion

 There is gas in my low GI tract

And I don’t know how to react

Should I hold it in and suffer

Or sneak a hot pepper

And blame you as a matter of fact?



You show great consternation

For my gut configuration

And it’s pain and general wild activity.

But that stomach is a dandy

It is rotund, fat, and handy

And it hangs there as a frontal part of me.

For the most part it is kind

And I generally find

That most food will slide right down its track.

And I have a sort of pride

That once anything’s inside

That old belly very seldom sends it back.

Though I do appreciate

Your concern for gutso’s fate

I hope that I may put your mind at ease.

Cause it’s churning there just fine

Mixing chocolate cake and wine

And perhaps some bits of jalapeno cheese.


Chili peppers chased by beer don’t seem too awful hot

And though injestion pains subside their aftermath does not

So eat with some discretion, truer words were never spoken

Cause if you do not choose to heed, you’ll find your shorts are smoking’.


The reason the famous explorer

Was known as Eric the Red,

He thought he was just adding Catsup

He was using Ahua instead


Ahua is made from small peppers

Which from your first taste you can tell

Their seeds are just like flaming sterno

But their outsides are hotter than hell


The finest wake up drink I’ve seen

Was not black coffee but straight caffeine

It gives your day a running start

Snaps back your lids and jolts your heart

It activates brain, nose, and ear

And really gets your buns in gear

So just dissolve a gram or two

Then belt it down and sweat wahzoooooo!


Beware the fatal pickle

That will bring you to your death

It makes your stomach tickle

And does nasties to your breath

But if you’re feeling daring

And a pickle you must eat

Keep the drooling to a minimum

And the chewing sounds discreet


Fresh bubble gum is really great

It lets a person ruminate

Old bubble gum gives only trouble

It has no taste and will not bubble


I do not want your bubble gum

So please don’t try to give me some

Cause if I chance a stick to take

I’ll chew until my jaw bones ache

It seems that when gum hits my chops

The chewing starts and never stops

Until fatigue and stabbing pain

Prompts me to take it out again


The onion is a noble weed

As fine as nature makes

It’s good in salads, fine when boiled

And great when cooked with steaks

But when injested it can be

Just like a walking death

It numbers in your stomach

And putrifies your breath

So if you long for privacy

Don’t do things too absurd

Just munch a couple onions

Isolation is assured


Godiva chocolates may be fine

But ain’t it sorta coarse

To name a fine confection for

Some nude broad on a horse?           


A certain young fellow named Bruce

Who injested a glass of prune juice

Found a terrible thing

As he tied his shoe string

The lace wasn’t all that was loose

Oh sometimes chocolate kibbles

Or Exlax coated bits

Can cause unsightly dribbles

Or sometimes flat out___.


There was a loose woman named Bess

Who was wearing a brown patterned dress

It seems that the tint

Was not in the print

But the results of her stomach distress


A woman named Molly McFee

Was embarrassed as human can be

As she stepped through the door

Trailing there on the floor

Was four feet of blue Charmin TP


Folks wait till the last minute

To heed old nature’s call

Then finally tear themselves away

And head into the hall

And then their faces wrinkle

With a look of desperation

When they find out that the restrooms

Are out of operation



Porta Johns in Arizona

Have a very strong aroma

As they stand a-steaming in the August sun.

And no one spends time a waitin’

Cogitatin’, meditatin’

But they always leave as soon as they are done.

Now the people who recharge tem

See no reason to enlarge them

For they find when they arrive at the end of the day

That the flaming hot condition

Has effected an ignition

And there’s just a pile of ash to sweep away.

So if through that state you’re haulin’

And you hear old nature callin’

Here’s a thought designed to give you peace of mind:

Cactuses are things of beauty

But use one to do your duty

They may pick but will not blister your behind.


Instant breakfast

It makes my stomach twitch and quake

When grandma makes a chocolate shake

And when I drink it, I’ll tell you

It goes down just like Elmer’s glue

And though it seems a bit absurd

The sweetness would gag a hummingbird.



Oh I’m simply going wacko

For a puff of burned tobacco

And my blood stream fairly screams for nicotine

And my chops quite nearly drool

For a mentholated Kool

And my lust for smoking nearly is obscene

I have tried both gum and fruit

As a smoking substitute

But neither satisfies in any way

But I know I will succeed

Giving up the weed

Cause I now am nearly through the second day.



No more smokes nor sex nor beer

Now I’m nervous, dry, and queer


Did you ever hit one of those days when you feel that bottom has dropped out of everything?



 To go beneath the surgeon’s knife

Is not a cause for cheer

No matter what he’s cutting:

Your nose, your hip, or ear.

But when he’s hacking at your gut

It makes your blood run cold

Cause one is never certain

If his stitches all will hold.

Although form work that he has done

It seems they always do

If ever one is gonna fail

It will be the one on you.

But look upon the bright side

Malpractice is the thing

And Mt. Ever-rest runs specials

Nearly each and every spring.


The urologist said well it’s done

You are safe to have sexual fun

But you sure won’t be pleased

Cause I slipped when I sneezed

And so you are left with just one


The urologist said “Well I’m done,

And things are in place, every one.

It’s surprising to me

That today I should see

The gland of the Rysenga son.


Oh the capsules they can kill you

And the eye drops make you blind

If you chance to purchase toothpaste

You don’t know what you’ll find

So if you’d save your eyes and life

And keep your dentures beautiful

Rely on nuts and berries and not things pharmaceutical


There’s cyanide in Tylenol

And acid in Visine

Kids apples may have razor blades

It all seems quite obscene

But there is still a bright spot

In these ugly situations

As least no one’s put turpentine

In hemorrhoid preparations


Doctor, having paid your bill, I’ve a conclusion that

The operation that you did

Wasn’t only on the cat


Test tube babies are forlorn and feel quite disenchanted

Cause Bill Knapps won’t give birthday cakes to them whats been decanted


Said the little test tube school boy

With a smile upon his face

“I like to send mom flowers

Cuz we use her as the vase.”


Said the little test tube school child

When asked in class one morning

What is your mother’s maiden name?

It’s either Ace or Corning


Said the little test tube school child

Softly as he spoke

It was only nineteen days ago

My mommy fell and broke

As if that wasn’t bad enough

When she hit and shattered

There upon the kitchen floor

My little brother splattered


Said the little test tube embryo

“This has benefits it’s true

Being raised in a location

You might call a womb with a view.”


Be it from what I see of outside

I’ll kick and scream and pant

You can spear me with a corkscrew

But I’m never coming out.


When all kids come from test tubes

That’s girls and boys and others

Then rest assured miscarriages will

Be caused by clumsy mothers


There once was a lady from Italy

Who to her obstetrician complained bitterly

I wanted a child

But you’ve gone hog wild

Because six is excessive fertility


Wanton OB 2B

When it comes to reproduction

It appears you know the facts

But your knowledge must be lacking

In the field of income tax.

Because from what you tell me

Your timing is the worst

‘Cause no one ever births a child

Post January first.

But if you really concentrate

And get your doings done

You can salvage a deduction

If she’s born by twelve three one


A cryogenic father

A pyrex type of mother

Gestation in a baggie

In one broth or another

The outlook for tomorrow’s child

Is really quite forlorn

He well may be an orphan

By the time that he is born 


A person in the future

Tracing back his family tree

May find his great-grandmother’s name

Was test tube ninety-three


Lessen your trouble

Lessen your strife

Extra Strength Tylenol

Good for your wife


Oh Hygienist, with pick in hand

And with your bowl of fine ground sand

Although I lie here calm, supine

Without a whimper, sob, or whine

I’ll have you know it irks a bit

To have my gums infused with grit

Which sticks in spite of rinse or sprays

And grinds within my mouth for days

It also makes me feel inferior

To have you prodding my interior

And have you view the heinous dross

That did not yield to dental floss

My eyes roll up, around and back

I contemplate: just what is plaque?

I watch your nose hairs to and fro

As first you inhale, then you blow

It’s as boring as can be

I’m sure you share this ennui

My consolation in a while

Is that I’ll have a close-up smile


When your gums are sore and raw

And you have cloves in your jaw

You can’t unclench your teeth

Cause the packings underneath

There’s no creamed chipped beef for you

Cause there’s no way you can chew

The donuts you pass by

And the orange juice makes you cry

There is just one certain truth

You have lost a wisdom tooth


A chiropractor filled with zest

With one knee upon my chest

Said bring your nose down to your chin

Buttocks out, belly in

Arms akimbo, jaw held slack

Now I’ll rearrange your back

Horrid noise, and stabbing pain

Perhaps some day I’ll walk again


Surgery abdominal

Is known to be abdominal

The job is neat and cuter

If they use a Roto-rooter

Sit upon a cushion

Or a cotton puff

Take whatever you may choose

Nothing’s soft enough


Bob Brown ingested Ex Lax

With only one intent

To see if he could bring about

A Brownian movement


There once was a fellow named Nick

With diarrhea was horribly sick

But he worsened his state

Drinking Kaopectate

Cause he passed a 14 inch brick


When doctors use those fancy words

I really get dismayed dismayed

Don’t speak of hysterectomies

Let’s call a spayed a spayed


Eat what Doctor

Tells you

All Bran is

Quite good for you



We find that FDA delays

Have put us on the spot

The situations hairy

Our customers are not.

It really is annoying

When there’s a glaring lack

And one attempts to compensate

By combing eyebrows back.

But if in desperation

One tries to use a wig

It looks about as natural

As a doiley on a pig.

So write your balding congressman

To get them on the stick

And agitate the FDA

To get acceptance quick.

It really won’t necessitate

A very great concession

And it may just alleviate

A real hairy recession.


Although for nurses’ services

For hours you have waited

The instant you stop breathing

You’re expiration dated


Grit your teeth and climb right on

Here is nursy with a Porta-John

The seat has a hole, we know it’s there

In hospitals it’s the Potty chair


Pity poor Dolly in such a condition

She started as twins in juxtaposition

That’s not as the doctor at first has supposed

Instead she’s a pair that are superimposed


To have an operation

Is not the thing to do

If you want laceration

Just purchase a tattoo

With it you do not stay in bed

Nor have an IV drip

And you’ll look simply smashing

With a panther on your hip

Of God and Man


The creature Homo sapiens is an ornery beast

The things he gets the easiest he seems to treasure the least

If any plant may chance to grow from cuttings or from seed

Without a lot of fancy care it’s promptly called a weed

And man will work unceasingly until he’s out of breath

To stamp out every vestige and assure its total death

But take some sickly feeble sprout that always wants to die

And man will choose to save it, I have no reason why.

He’ll gladly spend a fortune just to get his lawn to grow

Then curse and swear and sputter every time he has to mow

He’ll also chase a woman till she says she’ll be his wife

Then soundly curse marriage the remainder of his life

He much prefers a diet that is filled with sweets and grease

Then toils and sweats and diets ‘cause he soon becomes obese

And when it comes to money the problem is quite tough

‘Cause no matter how much he may have it never is enough

And now here is the final line that makes this super grim

We find that when we stop and think, we are all one of him.


But if I make it sound as if the males are quite perverse

I would describe the females, but they are even worse.


Old Noah sort of grumbled and said I must be daft

I’ve never built a floating thing, row boat, canoe, or raft

And now I find that I have built a thousand cubit boat

It’s probably top heavy and I doubt that it will float

And if that wasn’t strange enough for any one to do

I had to go and stock it like a cotton-pickin’ zoo

But man must do some strange things if he’s workin’ for the Lord

And oops I felt a drop of rain…that’s it, now all aboard


The night he arrived in Damascus

Paul said I really surmise

The traffic was really quite horrid

And the lights would just plain fry your eyes


As the piper went to his eternal reward

He heard Saint Peter yell

Here’s the glory train so get on board

But send your pipes to hell.

To have old Gabe is really tough

With his endless trumpet playing

But single notes are bad enough

Without three drones a braying

So climb aboard and just sit back

Relax, enjoy the view

But forget about your lousy pipes

Cause there’s scarcely room for you.


One day old Adam said to Eve

I’ve something to discuss

Within the whole creation

There’s no one here but us

Now granted, we go romping

Through fields and streams and trees

Without too much to cover us

‘cept fig leaf BVDs

But I have just one question

You can answer for me please

Where in the name of sanity

Did you acquire Herpes? 


A Baptist missionary

had a rather novel plan

To use in distant countries

with a very special van

Its front remained un-altar-ed

But the back was customized

To contain a rubber water tank

Which could be vulcanized

It provided opportunity

For portable immersions

And he got this inspiration

From an ad for van conversions


As he went for a shower, the Pope

Said, “There’s only one thing I sincerely hope

Since I’m plagued by bursitis,

The gout, and arthritis

I can get some soap on a rope.”


Said Tommy to Jim “Though you did it

When it comes to sin I’m agin it

But it does make a buck

And we’re really in luck

Cause there’s one born again every minute.”


To be a martyr for a cause

May be OK for some

But if it is the thing to do,

Why call it martyr dumb?


An old member of Genus Rhesus

Cut his tail into several pieces

But with modern day science

They built an appliance

And provided a 12-foot prothesis

Mankind has made the same mistakes

Throughout its whole existence

Whatever it may lack in smarts

It makes up in persistence


I guess I’ve never seen a hair-lipped angel

Nor one whose upper dentures didn’t fit

Cause it is hard to tell a hair-lipped angel

Most people only notice when they spit

They don’t sell no menoxidel in heaven

Although we know that angels have no hair

The way we know that baldness is in heaven

We’ve been assured there ain’t no parking there.


When Baptists learn to genuflect

And Catholics learn to swim

T’will be a shocker for mankind

But won’t mean stink to Him

The Great Outdoors

Ants is slightly longer

Than ants is slightly wide

Their jaws occur on just one end

But leap on either side

These little nitty pickers

They really like to eat

If you get them in your knickers

They’ll fang you in the seat.

If you observe a flying goose

You may find out his bowels are loose


The thought of eating ooni

Is rather gauche to me

It seems quite shabby treatment for

A creature of the sea

Cause gelded young sea urchins

Can’t do things sea urchins oughter

And your name may preclude the life

Of urchin’s sons and daughters

So hold in check your appetite

For this dish in particular

And in the future don’t indulge

In foods that are testicular


As each goose passes overhead

It empties gut and bowel

And so I think the spelling’s wrong

They should be water-fowl


Close your mouth and clench your teeth

When viewing geese from underneath


When geese are flying overhead

Do not look up, look down instead


Algae is a type of plant whose uses seen obscure

If you find it lying on a beach it smells like fish manure

If it didn’t have its chlorophyll it might be just called fungi

But it has to live in water and it isn’t quite as spongy

A person who collects it is correctly called a kelper

It’s edible and may be used just like hamburger helper

The latest use they’ve put it to is really the last straw

They’ve made a ladies garment that is called the algae bra


If you have a parrot named Pete

You had best keep your language discreet

Or you’ll shock your old grandma

Out of her pajama

By the words that old Pete will repeat


A young woman called Lori Moore

Had a mind so dreadfully pure

They say that one day

She fainted away

When she saw some canary manure


When Eskimos need candlelight

They simply catch a whale

Then drag him in their igloos

And elevate his tail

They just insert a twelve-foot wick

And then the end ignite

And thereby have a candle

Which lasts one polar night


The frogs are in our basement

Indeed we don’t know why

The only way to catch them

Is to imitate a fly

So when you hear one croakin’

Just step out in the hall

And run your zipper up and down

And they will heed the call


Oh chicken skin

Is gross as sin

Its touch I can’t abide

Although I’d hate it

I’d tolerate it

If they called it chicken hide


They find at this time of the year

That hunger will overcome fear

So beware if a mouse

Gains access to your house

He’ll likely attack from the rear


The Law of Fang and Gnaw

Poor old Fritz lay all supine

Pinned beneath the fallen pine

But he thought “This is the most,

They’ve cut me a new chewing post

But in truth it’s really cruel

‘cause I can only gum and drool”


There stands old Fritz

he’s hot as all sin

With sweat dripping off

of his Doberman chin

He’s eaten the trees

which might provided shade

He now finds it’s time

that the “Piper gets Paid”

But meanwhile the cat

in the house sits and thrives

While watching soap operas

And eating nine lives

And thus it is always

In this world of strife

You hear many say

That they lead a dog’s life



Poor old Fritz the Doberman  

There’s nothing more to stay

It seems in Monday’s windstorm

He sort of pined away.

He’s gone to Dober-heaven

And we know that it is true

He is in that canine forest

Doing what he wants to do.

He now may chew or wet or bark

Without the least objection

And never give a second thought

About some fool injection.

They found him near his doghouse

And said with some chagrin

It happened like the neighbors said

The bark would do him in.


There once was a Dobe they called Fritz

Who liked to chew fence posts to bits

Till he wore out his teeth

And the gums underneath

And now drools till he gives people fits


If you would have a skunk type pet

Consider first this adage

Have it descented by the vet

For a distinct advantage


Hail to thee oh Unicorn

In truth you never have been born

Perforce since you’re imaginary

Your attitude is quite contrary

At the risk of sounding coarse

One might call you a horny-horse


There once was a man from Melbourne

Who rode on a green Unicorn

He thought it was great

Just to accelerate

And at the crossroads to lean on the horn

Stop, oh bovine, don’t be wild

Because you’ve lost your unborn child

Anxiety should be abated

At least you’re now decaffeinated



Birdie sitting in the tree

What a lousy way to act

Messing up my car and me

With things from your digestive tract…


A certain bug chruncher named Clyde

Said “I always try to decide

When I crunch a large bug

On a light colored rug

What colors will squirt from inside.”


Bottle Rocket

Oh Bottle Rocket, pal of mine, bewail your horrid loss

Your eyes no longer sparkle, your coat has lost its gloss

You turned your back on someone you never should ignore

Now your wandering days are over and your sitting spot is sore

So say goodbye to damsels on whom you used to call

You never will recover from the cruelest cut of all.


But take some consolation as you sit alone and holler

You nicked Old Jimbo’s checkbook to the tune of forty dollars


Bottle Rocket

Alas, alack, old feline friend

For you my cheeks are wet

I know you took it in the end

When you went to the vet

But take it philosophically

This world is full of drearience

Live passive and bucolically

Twas one eunuch experience.



 If mankind was evolved from apes

Though that some folks may dispute

It seems quite strange that he should seek

Some means to stay hirsute

To make some gummy potion

That the divots will replace

And then finds that it only works

On the knuckles, chest, and face

And if it spills upon his wife

It leaves her looking weird

With hairy matted finger joints

And well-developed beard

So better we accept what time

Render on our pate

Cause though bald ain’t too beautiful

It still may be our fate

And all the rotten side effects

Should make us rather wary

Cause string bikinis don’t do much

For torsos that are hairy


Obesity is fun to see

Upon another frame

But when it is on your

Own rib cage

The humor ain’t the same


(Obesity is waist-full)

If mankind was meant to be skinny

It wouldn’t have skin that can stretch


Eskimos are really nifty

When they reach the age of 50

They go out upon the ice

Find a snow pile soft and nice

Strip down to their BVD’s

Settle there and start to freeze

This ain’t bad cause heaven knows

At least they do not decompose


You know you’re old when your back goes out more than you do



Tomorrow with the boxes we’ll have another bout

I fear that when we’re half way through the door someone will give a shout

Quick bring a glass of water and give this turkey air

Then place a call to Upjohn Health and have them bring a chair

Cause there on the terrace lies an aged and chubby lout

It ain’t that someone hit him, but his bones just gave out


Say Au Revoir to days of youth

Hello to middle age

The thought at first may seem uncouth

And cause a surge of rage

Before you were a dashing dude

But now old man you’re dirty

You’ll find your life is now subdued

Cause Buster you are thirty


On Becoming 40

Birthdays sure become a pain

the longer that we live

But think a bit and don’t complain

there’s one alternative


Wahoo Balloons!!

The Bouquet was a big surprise

The thought was really swell

But did you call me an old goat

Because of age or smell?


Many Thanks


When they pat you in the face with a spade

You know that have really got it made

For your bones will not be stirred

Unless you are disinterred

And that only happiness if your rent ain’t paid


If your weight is near 250

And your height is 4 foot 10

And when you sit in captains chairs

You can’t get out again

And if you make all the fabric stretch

Here’s something that I think

You can do yourself a favor

By never wearing pink


My Shape

There’s nothing whatever the matter with me

I’m just as healthy as I can be

I have arthritis in both my knees

And when I talk, I talk with a wheeze

My pulse is weak and my blood is thin

But I’m awfully well for the shape I’m in.

I think my liver is out of whack

And I have a terrible pain in my back

My hearing is poor and my eyes are dim

I’m overweight and I can’t get thin

But I’m awfully well for the shape I’m in.

Arch supports I have on both feet

Or I wouldn’t be able to walk down the street

My fingers are ugly, stiff in the joints

My nails are impossible to keep in points

Sleep is denied me, night after night,

And every morning I am a sight

But I’m really well for the shape I’m in.

Memory failing, head in a spin

I’m practically living on aspirin

The moral is, as this tale we unfold

That for you and me who are growing old

It’s better to say “I’m fine” with a grin

Than to tell everyone “the shape we are in”

How do I know my youth is all spent?

Well, my get up and go, has got up and went!

But in spite of it all, I’m able to grin

When I recall where my “get up” has been.

Old age is golden, so I’ve heard it said

But sometimes, I wonder when I get in to bed

With my ears in a drawer and my teeth in a cup

My eyes on the table until I get up

Ere sleep dims my eyes, I say to myself

Is there anything else I should put on the shelf?

And I’m happy to day, as I close my door,

My friends are the same, perhaps even more.



You’re just as old as you may feel

That’s pure bovine manure.

But at age thirty you ain’t old,

You’ve just become mature.

That may give consolation

But one thing I can tell,

No matter what we tell you

You’re feeling old as hell


Life in These United States

 If ever you talk to a cowboy

Unless in a corner you’re pinned

Be sure to do all in your power

To assure that he’s standing downwind.

When they go to town they’re fun-loving

They’re drunken and lecherous too

When you’re speaking of base depravation

There’s little a cowboy won’t do.

Since they have these characteristics

I’m sure you would have to agree

That cowboys are uniquely suited

Our national heroes to be.


The people of America are from widely scattered places

They come in diverse sizes, colors, shapes, and many races

It’s true they miss their homeland and quite often make that clear

But they are at least in general rather happy to be here

That is with one exception, namely those considered Asian

For it seems this feeling’s limited to red, black, or Caucasian

The reason is quite obvious and really elemental

Why happiness ain’t felt by them what’s oriental

Cause it’s very hard to feel great joy, peace, and quite contented

When you know your remaining days will be disoriented


I went to school at anti-Yale

And I knew for certain I would anti-fail

I made plenty points with my professor

And in no time at all I was a crashing bore

I anti-failed as sure as heck

Then got my doctorate out at Kal-tech

My education you’ll agree

Removed all trace of personality


Pompous, bombastic

Sometimes even spastic

But not Iconoclastic

Cause Hahvahd is my home

There’s one thing for sure

My reasoning obscure

And I spread bull manure

Cause Hahvahd is my home



We’re sitting in the Silver Dome

In row nine twenty four

I’m not too sure I see the stage

But I can make out the floor.

That’s really not remarkable

Because of all the haze

Besides from climbing all these steps

I’m in a partial daze.

And here comes Michael Jackson

He’s really looking swell

At least with strong binoculars

I think that I can tell.

The sound is sure terrific

It makes your eardrums hum

It’s much like dropping fireworks

In a fifty gallon drum.

Now Mike is singing Billy jean

That really is a joke

He should be singing Mary Jane

Just judging from the smoke.

At last the concert’s over

The fun is finally through

I’ve kissed my thirty bucks goodbye

So back to Kalamazoo.


I think a man must be insane

To trust his life to canned propane

And count on it and any breeze

To keep him safely clear of trees

It also doesn’t give assurance

To find his wife raised his insurance

One nice thing about a basket

It can double as a casket


There is a certain question new fathers ask in dread

What was that form of moisture that just whizzed past my head?

I don’t think perspiration has made my shirt sleeve wet

But wives just don’t get too concerned, “Just pass it off as sweat.

And even though the odor may seem a bit amiss

I’m sure that no one will suspect, cause armpits just don’t…drip.”


Tie this on and don’t forget

Or else your shirt-front will be wet


More Balloons

Do you think I feel ridiculous?

Do you think I feel conspicuous?

Do you think I feel like a ruddy fool?

Do you think my ego’s shot

Out here in the parking lot

With balloons in hand and trying to act cool?

Do you think it cramps my style

Having people point and smile

As I try to keep some semblance of finesse?

Do you think it hurts my pride?

Do you think I’d like to hide?

Bunky, you must know the answer…it is yes.


I’ve met a lovely woman

As nice as man could find

She’d beautiful and witty

And also quite refined

I think we are compatible

But I have one small quirk

Which I really hate to mention

Cause I feel just like a jerk

The cause for my discomfort

I’m reluctant to define

But she has more hair on her chest

Than I have got on mine


If your teenage daughter hollers

You can spend 2 million dollars

And provide sufficient justice we agree

But if you ain’t got the bread

You’ll wind up in jail instead

And that’s justice for a simple slob like me


Today to beat the charge of rape

Just blush and say “Aw shucks!”

And incidentally it won’t hurt

To have ten million bucks


If you think that the Middle East fighting

Is because of land, you’re wrong old chum

Instead it’s because every Arab

Thinks Israelis are after his gum



The presidential colon had a polyp that is true

And he went to have it excised, a likely thing to do

But it must have really thrilled him to see the close-up views

And to hear the commentary on the national evening news.


In view of the New Bedford mess

Though some may protest bitterly

When Lincoln spoke at Gettysburg

He meant “Your father’s” literally


An Oldsmobile is just a flivver

But ain’t too much like Old Man River

Which in the words of that old song

At least continues rollin’ along


We live within an era

When all women want their rights

To race and smoke and spit and swear

And join in barroom fights.

They want to enter locker rooms

For interviews on sports

And question big time athletes

In or our of undershorts

They feel one can’t delay the news

For even half an hour

And so their TV interviews

Are conducted in the shower

Indeed the modern woman wants

To challenge all frontiers

And give her own endorsement of

All shaving cream and beer

There seems to be no limits

To the feminist demands

Until the whole creation

Is entirely in their hands

But men though they have ruined

Our poker clubs and bars

Until they find adapters

The urinals are ours.


Twas the day before Christmas

And with some trepidation

Mom left in the T-bird

And dad the citation.

For some last minute shopping

(an unhappy spree)

And left the whole house

To Doug, Molly, and me.

An unlikely occurrence

I’ll admit that it’s true

For this is not something

Our parents would do.

But the pending arrival

Of jolly St Nick

And his threats of reprisal

Might just do the trick.

That our youthful high spirits

Would be somewhat abashed

And that when they got home

They would not find it trashed.

They had lectured us hard

They had lectured us long

But when they returned

They found they were wrong.

‘Cause any child or household pet

Grabs all the gusto he can get

He does it now without delay

And lets the chips fall where they may.

Then stands amid debris and smoke

And when accosted says “It broke.”

For he knows when his folks come in

They won’t be too harsh on their kin.

And thus it was in this case too

The kids did what they shouldn’t do.


Welcome Yule, oh welcome

Though you make me a ruddy fool

I search and travel, seek and spend

In Christmas shopping without end.

And after I have bought the crap

I have to take the time to wrap

Each package with great toil and strain

To then rip off and wrap again.

For there’s one thing I know is true

That neat type wrapping I can’t do

So this year neatness I am scorning

It don’t mean stink come Christmas morning.


Tis the day after Christmas and I don’t feel too great

I ate far too much and I stayed up too late

At the first light of dawn I crawled from my bed

Now I’m here at my desk half asleep and half dead.

My eyes are bloodshot in the fluorescent gloom

And there’s no sign of life in the whole lousy room

The general appearance is really fantastic

The plants are all wilted albeit they’re plastic.

The spirit of things could not be much worse

I’ve seen greater joy in the back of a hearse

There’s one thing for certain that’s perfectly clear

It won’t be much better at least till next year.

In other words, “It don’t get no better than this Bunky!”


Hark the Upjohn nurses sing

Gnaw upon a pepper ring

Don’t eat any sweets at all

And avoid cholesterol

Choke that fiber down your throat

Shallow water till you bloat

But if you must drink and play

Make your beverage Perrier

Hark the Upjohn nurses sing

Health awareness is the thing.



T’was the night before “Moses” at St. Timothy

The choir was as nervous as singers can be.

Their knees were all shaking, their knuckles were white

With anticipation of opening night.

Low rumbling rebellion was heard from the basses

The tenors sat silent with frowns on their faces.

Sopranos and altos were tense but supine

It seems they’d been checking the communion wine.

When from the director a snort of derision

“Barb ray just arrived with one more revision.

It’s in Aramaic, the verses don’t rhyme

And the meter, Lord help us, is 7/8 time.”

Said Barbara, “Don’t panic, it’s only one song

In the key of high E and just three pages long.

The other two pages are solos for Jim.”

(We notice she always writes solos for him.”

Said Jim as he sat there looking weary and crushed

“Well when a man’s married he does what he must.”

(In truth he was faking he just loves to do it

Especially if there’s some Terpsichore to it.)

But then came a comment that caused great delight

“Remember this turkey runs only one night.”


I’ve changed my watch

I’ve changed my clocks

I’ve changed my underwear

And socks

I’ve changed my mind

And everything

One thing’s for sure

It must be spring


 It was many years ago

When we were allowed to know

That our unit would be moving

By and By

At that time we got the word

Terminals would be assured

It was then quoth Richard Craven


I remember even yet

And I never will forget

How tears were seen in every persons


At the very pleasant thought

That equipment would be bought

And each station be equipped with


The move has come and gone

And we all just carry on

But we can’t forget no matter

How we try

How much nicer it would be

If we’d turn around and see

A sleek model of the latest


Oh the promise still remains

To placate our Falco pains

And a Krowbar does allow us to

Get by

But we know but all to well

There will be a frost in hell

Long before we ever get our



We find our brand new mail mobile

Can really draw a crowd

Although it’s unobtrusive

And its beeper ain’t too loud

Cause every time it passes by

So many trail behind

You’d think that the Pied Piper’d

Come to Bldg 259


Some names are very fitting

As most likely know

And in the case of workday names

One is most apropos

Cause after four long days of toil

And tempers have been tried

We reach that ever lovin day

When everyone is Fried



It seems the fancy projects that some management dreams up

Originate while staring into cocktail glass or cup.

Though the effort will be easy, or so they will assure,

You know without exception it’s just pure bovine manure.

So dear novice to the system, let me offer some advice

I know you learn quite quickly, so one warning will suffice

If someone says “Do you have time?” or “Let me make this clear”

Just feign a 6 month backlog, but in no case volunteer.


If ever you get feeling good

About your rank or placement

Remember you’re in two five nine

And toiling in a-basement.


If you would like your work in print

Tell ___ and have no fear

The copies soon will issue

But your name will not appear


They had a great idea

A product to contrive

To keep the cattle breathing

And help the swine survive

And so to be quite true to form

For always tempting fate

They took the toughest step of all

They set a target date.

What difference if there was no drug

Or no one had ability

To make a formulation

Much less know its stability?

Ignore these trifling little facts

The answer it would seem

Would be to schedule meetings

And select a project team.


You correct ten thousand errors

And you’ll find no one remembers

And upon this premise you may safely bet.

But if one should sneak by

However hard you try

There’s just no way in hell they will forget!


Oh where is Roger Gauntlet?

I’d really like to know

Is he still held in prison

Or did they let him go?
Perhaps they just released him

On his recognizance

With just one stipulation

That he keep things in his pants


If you like kinky romance

Best you choose your maiden aunts

Or perhaps your maiden uncle if you’re gay

But forgo your porno fun

With step-daughter or step-son

Or your sex drive may be taken clean away

Oh three judges now have tried

On a method to decide

And as yet they still are looking at the facts

One likes incarceration

Another one castration

While the last most strongly favors a dull ax


Roger stood in front of the judge

Looking quite perplexed

“You mean I’m to be punished

Just because I’m oversexed?”                                            

The judge said calm down Roger

Cause we’re living in an era

When first of all we slap your wrist

Then sock you with Provera

But if you are allergic

And on thus the court has checked

We’ve found a cross-eyed Rabbi

Who will have the same effect


There once was an old Upjohn heir

Who had an elicit affair

With a stepson and daughter

He shouldn’t have oughter

Now he’s scheduled for gender repair

Roger Gauntlet went to jail

With a syringe stuck in his tail

This will end his strong temptation

For more teenage molestation


Poor Roger sat alone

Feeling like a wimp

When he heard the court’s decision

He just went completely limp

When he mentioned this to Borson

The old judge was heard to say

“It’s precisely our intention

You damn well will stay that way”


It sets your mind to reeling

Good old Roger is appealing

For he thinks his current sentence too severe

He finds it harsh and cruel

To inactivate his tool

And to have to stay in jail for one full year


It says in books on parenting

That fathers should be close

It seems in dear old Roger’s case

“He was closer than most”

Oh Roger’s daughter said

“He really ain’t so bad

Ever since the age of seven

He has been much more than dad”


Said Broson “If you don’t take shots

Your sentence is amended.

But Roger baby either way

For you the tale is ended.”


Said Roger looking haggard

“When I get my release

I hope that I can just go home

And have a little…oops bad choice of words.”


The concept of punishment fitting crime

Is really taking shape

Judge Fitz is for establishing

The Gauntlet School of Rape


The judge said to old Roger

To give your kids protection

Your sentence is that you must take

Provera by injection

And though to some it may appear

This penalty is minimal

At least we’re sure you will not be

A very hardened criminal


Roger is devoted

To the company it’s true

To promote Depo Provera

There is nothing he won’t do


Said Roger I’m disgusted

Cause no matter how I wheedle

It seems wherever I may go

I always get the needle


Girls and Boys


Nocturnal activity- maternal proclivity

Glabrous girl and hispid boy

Make all mankind sing for joy

But the hispid girl and the glabrous youth

Make the heavens seem uncouth

So to your respective sexes flee



Hispid maid, glabrous youth

Make the heavens seem uncouth

Glabrous maid, hispid boy

Make the heavens leap for joy

Go to your respective sexes flee

Hispidity, glabrousity


D.P. went a jogging jut to stay in trim

Cause with that much on the top she wants the bottom slim

D.P. came back bruised and swearing out of breath

Cause when her bra strap broke she nearly flogged herself to death.


Bikinis that are made of string

Don’t cover up a dad-burned thing

Another fact you’ll find is true

Those things may wind up son-burned too.


Quite certain by now you have found

That the wind in your blue wrap-around

Will tend to expose

From your nose to your toes

And make dirty old men turn around


Sports Illustrated for Bart

Those girls in string bikinis are very slim and trim

Curvaceous top and bottom and lithe of bod and limb

They look so very sultry in every sexy pose

They wear so very little there’s not much left to expose

We now need some variety that doesn’t look so nifty

So get some dimpled darlings that weigh in around 250


A lovely vision just passed by

And stirred us to our roots

The tight black sweater

Flaired white skirt

Set off by Dingo boots

The jet black eyes

The dimpled cheeks

The gently wind-swept hair

Alas, alack, all this is gone

And only the Lord knows where.


Playboy and Playgirl

I very often wonder why some people gladly spend

Their money for a picture of somebody’s rear end

Cause one thing is quite certain, be it guy or be it dame

Within a single gender, plumbing’s very much the same

Putrid Puns and other Horrors

Belly dancing: omentum momentum


There once was a very successful owner of a crematorium. One day he decided that it would be wise from a business standpoint to diversify, so he became involved in commercial fishing.  He felt that in this way he would be able to increase his net profit as well as his gross urnings.


A certain Bic-flicker named Mick

Was flicking his Bic lightning quick

But two Bic-flickers

Set fire to his knickers

Which seemed like a damned nasty trick

Jessica is now long gone

The reason’s plain to see

She took her job as anchorperson

Far too literally


Conversation By A Paraplegic

‘Well, hi, it’s good to see you, and no I don’t feel sick.

You ask me how I’m doing? I really cannot kick.”


In Western Australia beneath a large tree

Old dame Bridget Murphy each day would have tea

She loved the koalas that resided there

They are, incidentally, a small kind of bear.

One day Bridget Murphy decided to see

If koalas would drink eucalyptus leaf tea

It turned out they would, but unfortunately

Their digestive tracts acted negatively.

A young veterinarian who happened along

Was called in to try to find out what was wrong

He quickly examined the leaf-laden tea

And said to old Bridget “Quite obviously,

While koalas could eat all the leaves you have here,

Any teas that they drink must be perfectly clear.

So just filter the tea through a sieve or a cloth

To remove every leaf from this foul smelling broth.”

But Bridget, indignant with expression quite pained

Said, “Sir, the koala tea of Murphy is not strained.”


My old heart goes pitter patter

When I think of anti-matter

If perchance I’m on the street

And my antiperson meet

And we both touch we’re good as gone

We’ll be blown to positrons


I must go down to the sea again;

The lonely sea and the sky

Cause my shirt-tail caught in the anchor rope

And that’s the reason why


Thought Oedipus as he fretted for many a day and night

“I married mom and murdered dad: two wrongs don’t make a right”

Then poking his thumb in both his eyes, he donned his coat and hat

But said as he reached for his leader dog, “I’ve just lost sight of that”


When Oedipus was just a child

He wasn’t too much bother

But when he grew to be a man

He polished off his father

And when at last he came to trial

His lawyer said “Oh bother”

He really wasn’t all that bad

At least he liked his mother


Said a passerby once long ago

As he stared at poor Quasimodo

Who had jumped for a bell

But missed it and fell

“A dead ringer for someone I know”


As apple juice dripped down his pate

Old Newton said “I hereby state

Tis surely of the utmost gravity

But not a question of depravity

Why fruits on me must gravitate.”


Jacque Cousteau makes an undergarb

Like none you ever saw

It is entirely seaweed

And is called the algaebra


Oh when they trip the guillotine

You know that you are dead

But you may live slightly longer

If you just don’t turn your head

--Louie XIV


As Cleopatra gave a gasp

At her life’s termination

Marc Anthony said, “Well, at least

She had her aspiration.”


Do not chuckle

Do not grin

Try to hold

Your stomach in

Do not sneeze

Do not chuckle

You may pop

Your belly buckle.



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