"Night Noises"

My parents' bedroom is far from mine, so I have to wonder
What the noise is every night that sounds a lot like thunder.
We don't live near the seashore, but almost every morn
I'm wakened by a noise that sounds like a fog horn.

It's louder than the sound of barking dogs at night
Or a fireworks explosion that lights the sky real bright.
A chainsaw cutting logs doesn't make as much din,
Nor did the wall coming down way over in Berlin.

A jet plane at takeoff will get your attention quick,
As will a jackhammer engaged in busting up some brick.
But neither equals the clamor from Mom and Dad's bedroom,
Worse than a stack of dynamite at the moment of KABOOM!

At last I figured out the source of all the raucous roaring.
It was only good old Dad engaging in some snoring
Mom says: "I don't mind; it's really a Godsend
That all that wind isn't coming out the other end."

– Alan Balter

My dear, I’ve got some important news,
Please know it’s nothing bad,
But today I had to X-ray my head,
And your picture is all it had!

Roses are red, I’m not wearing a suit,
Carrots are not vegetables, they are actually fruit.

A tutor who taught on the flute,
tried to teach two young tooters to toot.
Said the two to the tutor,
"Is it harder to toot or,
to tutor two tooters to toot?"

It’s all so good –
Turkey and ham,
Macaroni and cheese, dressing and cranberry sauce,
Chocolate cake, pumpkin and potato pie.
Thanksgiving is just the beginning
Of the holiday season,
And already, I’m getting bigger and bigger.
My jeans are telling me I should skip Christmas.

- Natasha Niemi

There was an Old Man with a flute,
A sarpint ran into his boot;
But he played daay and night,
Till the sarpint took flight,
And avoided that man with a flute.

There was an Old Man of Coblenz,
The length of whose legs was immense;
He went with one prance
From Turkey to France,
That surprising Old Man of Coblenz.

There was an Old Man of New York, Who murdered himself with a fork;
But nobody cried though he very soon died,-
For that silly Old Man of New York.

There was an Old Person of Ewell,
Who chiefly subsisted on gruel;
But to make it more nice
He inserted some mice,
Which refreshed that Old Person of Ewell.

A dog and his bone was on the roam,
Where can I find this bone a home?
Will I bury it next to the tree?
No, too easy for others to see.

What about next to the garden shed?
Maybe in the middle of the garden bed,
Behind the sty where the pigs all are,
What about somewhere right away far.

I think I know what I will do,
I'll just sit down and have a chew,
Tomorrow will be another new day,
I'll find a spot then for the bone to stay.

(John Williams)

Once I did hear my brother call
The sun a giant fire ball.
How can that be?
For what I see,
Is something up high so small.

I see it at the break of dawn,
When it announces the day is on.
Its brilliant gold,
A joy to behold,
And being outside is so much fun.

John might be right, for I must say,
The sun is not so cool at midday.
Its shining light
Is just so bright,
I have to pull my eyes away.

Evening comes and it's so strange
How the sun still appears to change.
No longer small,
A bigger ball.
Its tone, now a lovely bright orange!

This curious ball hanging up high,
For me, raises many questions why.
But when it shines,
Then life is fine.
Thank God the sun is in the sky.

(By Abimbola T. Alabi)

One Saturday morning at three
A cheese-monger’s shop in Paree
Collapsed to the ground
With a thunderous sound
Leaving only a pile of de brie.

There was an Old Man of Kilkenny,
Who never had more than a penny;
He spent all that money,
In onions and honey,
That wayward Old Man of Kilkenny.