Now we are sick
In Competition No. 1467 you were asked for a poem beginning like one of A. A. Milne's verses for children but continuing in an un-Milnish manner.
Like most decent people I don't allow Now We Are Six and When We Were Very. Young in the house, but having to check the accuracy of your quotations (some- times at fault) and nobody to borrow from, I was forced to buy the two whimsical little volumes, which are now in my local MIND shop. Poor Milne — he did seem to be fairly begging for this Competition. `I have a house where I go. . .' can't help leading to Peckham. 'Whenever I walk in a Lon- don street,/I'm ever so careful to watch my feet' suggests dogs rather than bears. As for `I want a soldier/ (A soldier in a busby),/ I want a soldier to come and play with me'. . . . Some of your opening lines were terrific:
I think I am a Muffin Man. I haven't got a bell. My analyst sees it otherwise and really gives me hell.
That's from Linda O'Callaghan, and this is from Moth Brayly: Halfway down the stairs is the stair where I sit When I've left the pub at closing time and don't feel very fit.
Thank you for a glittering entry. Lorna J. Morris, 0. Banfield, Michael Brereton, Morris Clarke, Graham Dunstan, Len Wellgerbil and Basil Ransome-Davies all
performed magna cum laude, but the slickest, if not the sickest, were the five winners below, who deserve every penny of their £15 apiece. And Martin Fagg deserves evey drop of his bonus bottle of gin, the gift of Mr William Topham. (To save space, I haven't always followed the line-arrangement of the original.)
James James Morrison Morrison Weatherby George Dupree Is an eagerly entrepreneurial and pushy young MP.
He buys and sells New-Issue stocks, but finds his operations Embarrassed by the bothersome ban on Multiple Applications.
`I'll soon get over that', he smirks, 'I've got so many names - I'll apply as "James George Morrison"; and then as "Weatherby James"; As "Georgie Morrison-Dupree"; as "Jamie Weatherby-George" ' - No end to the permutations his Yuppie wits can forge.
He buys and sells, this smart young 'stag', and duly makes his killing — You can't conceive a cannier way to keep t',e coffers filling . . .
James James Morrison Morrison Weatherby George Dupree
Is in the clear—he needn't fear he'll hear from the DPP. (Martin Fagg)
Wherever I am, there's always Pooh; Whatever am I going to do? Jonathan Jo, the gardener's man, Puts it down to lack of bran, But Alice says it usually means I've eaten far too many beans, While James James Morrison thinks It's caused by carbonated drinks.
The Vicar came to tea one day And Daddy sent the dog away, But Mummy knew who'd made the smell And made quite sure I went as well. I don't know why they all object 'Cos vicars do it too, I 'spect.
But wherever I am, there's always Pooh; Whatever am I going to do? (Noel Petty) Little boy kneels at the foot of the bed. Why is he legless, with hands on his head? I don't think he's ever been like this before; Best pick him gingerly up off the floor.
Jonathan smiles as he thinks of those chocs, And how he contrived to devour the whole box, Full of delectable, luscious liqueurs - Creme de Menthe, Tia Maria, Chartreuse.. • • Jonathan's piled into bed for the night, Laughs like a drain when he's told to sleep tight. When in the morning his feet hit the deck, What he will need is a large horse's neck. (David Heaton)
Ernest was an elephant, a great big fellow, Trudging through the corridors as steady as you like.
His brain was a pea, and his laugh was a bellow, Ernest 'didn't bother' when the porters went on strike.
Carefully he trundled the incubator babies Down to the X-ray, up to the ward,
Took to the mortuary the man who died of rabies,
Tidied-up the cupboard where the wheel chairs are stored.
Ernest gave the patients a feeling of security; Slow and dependable, he reassured the old. Quick with emergencies, he showed real maturity, Professionally detached when a body went cold.
Ernest had a packet of unedifying pictures, Not one among them that you'd care to show your wife, Shared them with the patients in spite of Matron's strictures, Said he only meant to add a little spice to life.
(Ginger Jelinek) No one can tell me, Nobody knows, Where the wind comes from, Where the wind goes.
It's coming from someone,
As loud as can be, I think it is Nanny,
I know it's not me.
I'm holding my nose, I'm starting to cough,
I do wish that Nanny
Would stop blowing off.
Nanny is cutting Some strawberry tart, I think I'll pretend I've forgotten the fart. (D. B. Jenkinson)