Modern Mother Goose IV

Blah, blah, black sheep
The “three bags full” were lies
And that’s how “the wool was pulled”
Across the “three Sir’s” eyes,
The monkey – being drunk
Confused ‘elephant’ with ‘skunk’
The skunk, afraid, then quickly sprayed
And so was stunk ole munk-munk,
Jack Sprat – he liked ’em lean
His wife – she liked ’em fat
They’d connected on a chat-line
But the “hook-up” soon went flat,
Henny Penny, being funny
Would shout, “The sky is gonna fall!”
Until a rock hid in a snowball
Piqued … a wake-up call,
Hey widdle Biddle, fit as a fiddle
Jumped over a cow by the moon
Little dog, that night, scored a bite
Left a scar on a ‘plate’ like a spoon,
The King could see the busy Queen
Lapping up her bread and honey
He and the maid and her blackbird
Slipped away to count his money(?),
Ole King Cole liked his pipe and bowl
The pleasure a cup of tea makes
But refused to give his “fiddlers three”
Their Union “coffee breaks”,
So, Mother goose, goes modern
But the moral’s still the same
A fairy tales’ a fairy-tale
Whatever time … and name!

D.C. Butterfield