I'm not an Ape Man
'Mankind has descended from monkeys'
I heard on the telly last week;
The scientists say that it's certain,
I say that I think they've a cheek.
Just because our design is so similar
To monkeys and apes and baboons;
I don't reckon those chimps in the advert'
Have a clue what to do with those spoons.
I'm not fooled by their lovable antics,
And the 'smiles' that play on their lips;
It's an insult to dress them like humans,
And force them to drink P.G. tips.
We sit them in front of a mirror
Like a schoolmaster would do a dunce,
Then say: 'yes they've got self awareness'
If they do not attack it at once.
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poem by John Carter Brown
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Sam's Ring
The other day our Sammy
Did a very silly thing:
She bought a can of pop
And then she swallowed up the ring!
We took her off to hospital,
So she could be x-rayed;
They couldn't find the blessed thing
But Sammy weren't afraid.
The radiographer she saw
Showed Mandy, (that's Sam's mum)
The picture of her insides,
From top, to tail, to tum;
She pointed out her organs
Just like a guided tour;
But where the ring had got to,
She couldn't say for sure.
There seemed no point in searching,
She said we'd have to wait
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poem by John Carter Brown
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The 5 Nonsenses
I can tell that a SMELL is a far greater thing
Than an ugly old dog, or a bird on the wing;
Or a chocolate frog, or a phone on the ring,
Yes a smell is a far greater thing.
I can HEAR that a tear is a terrible pain,
Like a slap in the face, or a race in the rain;
I just know that the snow once again will complain,
That a tear is a terrible pain.
I can TASTE a loud noise as it beats on the door,
With a sledgehammer grin and a coconut roar;
Will it ever give in, will it shout out for more?
The loud noise as it beats on the door.
I can TOUCH a good joke with a bargepole of lead,
I can laugh it to death with my humorous head;
If I turned it around I could thump it instead,
This good joke... with a bargepole of lead.
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poem by John Carter Brown
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A Parent's Lament
'How many times have I told you,
Behave, and just do as you're told?
Stop messing about in that bedroom,
Come on now your tea will be cold.'
'If you will act the fool at the table
I'll take your meal off you you know;
And make sure your shoes are not dirty
If right through the house you must go.'
'If you're off out to play now just listen:
Don't go where you're told not to go,
And make sure you're back when I've told you,
No later than quarter to four.'
'How many times have I asked you
To pick up your clothes off the floor?
I'm warning you now it's the last time,
For goodness sake PLEASE close that door.'
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poem by John Carter Brown
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The Old Box
Whatever is on the old box
It don't matter,
Some people just sit there
Their eyes getting fatter;
Their brains being dulled
By the flickering screen,
By the adverts that urge them
To buy what they've seen;
They worship their telly
And won't move an inch;
If the house caught on fire
Well I doubt if they'd flinch.
It's a puzzle to me
How it has so much power
To keep people glued to it
Hour after hour;
Film upon film and then
Soap after soap,
With a life such as that
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poem by John Carter Brown
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The Lottery Monster
Get you purses out ladies
And rattle your cash
Get along to the ticket-booth
Go have a bash;
Your pounds and your pennies
I'm longing to see
I'm the Lottery monster
So listen to me.
The Lottery monster
He has to be fed
He lives on cold cash
Just as you live on bread;
So throw any caution you had
To the wind
Your jackpotted dreams
To six numbers are pinned.
The holiday money
You keep in that tin
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poem by John Carter Brown
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Spelling
I'm fascinated by the way
Our language comes unstuck,
When all the rules of spelling
Look as though they've run amok.
You wouldn't BOUGH to an audience,
Or swing from the BOW of a tree;
No wonder it's hard for foreigners:
It's hard for you and me!
When looking for admittance
We don't K-nock on doors;
We knock, the K is silent,
Just like the G in gnaws.
And people, places or things, to me
Were always known as nouns;
I find it odd that ladies then,
Don't sleep in their night-GOUNS.
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poem by John Carter Brown
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Frank's Lump
Our Frank's got a lump on his head,
He says it's his brains coming out;
Which I don't believe for a moment,
It's a rumour he's putting about.
He'd have us believe he's a genius'
He really believes it I think;
I know he's no fool, but come on now,
He must think we're green and not pink.
Just because he went on to a grammar school,
And his O levels reach to the roof,
It could have been mostly good luck, 'cos
Let's face it no system's foolproof.
And anyway what's good about welding?
(His trade for a number of years)
He tells us he made fine machinery,
But it could have been railings or spears!
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poem by John Carter Brown
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Careful Surfer
I am a careful surfer
I'm watchful where I go;
I slide around in cyber-space
Gently - nice and slow.
I'm careful who I take on board
Along my cyber way;
Some I leave in lifeboats
To find their own sweet way.
But it's great this cyber-surfing,
I never ever dreamed
Of all this interaction with
Whomever up I teamed.
But careful is the watchword
Those bugs are on our tail;
Hold your vessel steady, as
In cyber-space you sail.
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poem by John Carter Brown
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The Grand British Brew
I declare unto you there's a brew that is true,
Golden brown until we make it white;
It's drunk in the morning, it's drunk after noon,
In the evening, and also at night.
The procedure to make this infusion
Is quite ceremonial in China;
But this king of all drinks well deserves it,
To be honest there's just nothing finer.
Some take it with milk, some take it without,
Then the question is: 'One lump or two? '
But whatever the colour or sweetness of taste,
You can't beat The Grand British Brew.
If your preference is for the Darjeeling,
Earl grey or 'P.G.' or 'Typhoo, '
It makes not a farthing of difference,
You're choosing The Grand British Brew.
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poem by John Carter Brown
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