FUNNY POEMS MENU
» Animal (34) » Banter (80) » Bathos (17) » Burlesque (58) » Cynicism (22) » Epigrams (29) » Immortal Stanzas (14) » Juniors (17) » Love & Courtship (23) » Narrative (64) » Nonsense (46) » Parody (62) » Satire (88) » Tribute (16) » Whimsical (83) » Women (77)
|
Category: Funny Banter Poems
Classic humorous and funny poems in a playful, teasing, and good-natured way. THE SCHOOLMASTER ABROAD WITH HIS SON  what harper could worthily harp it,
Mine Edward! this wide-stretching wold
(Look out wold) with its wonderful carpet
Of emerald, purple and gold!
Look well at it--also look sharp, it
Is getting so cold.
The purple is heather (erica);
The yellow, gorse--call'd sometimes "whin."
Cruel boys on its prickles might spike a
Green beetle as if on a pin.
You may roll in it, if you would like a
Few holes in your skin.
You wouldn't? Then think of how kind you
Should be to the insects who crave
Your compassion--and then, look behind you
At yon barley-ears! Don't they look brave
As they undulate--(undulate, mind you,
From unda, a wave).
The noise of those sheep-bells, how faint it
Sounds here--(on account of our height)!
And this hillock itself--who could paint it,
With its changes of shadow and light?
Is it not--(never, Eddy, say "ain't it")--
A marvelous sight?
Then yon desolate eerie morasses.
The haunts of the snipe and the hern--
(I shall question the two upper classes
On aquatiles, when we return)--
Why, I see on them absolute masses
Of filix or fern.
How it interests e'en a beginner
(Or tiro) like dear little Ned!
Is he listening? As I am a sinner
He's asleep--he is wagging his head.
Wake up! I'll go home to my dinner,
And you to your bed.
The boundless ineffable prairie;
The splendor of mountain and lake
With their hues that seem ever to vary;
The mighty pine forests which shake
In the wind, and in which the unwary
May tread on a snake;
And this wold with its heathery garment--
Are themes undeniably great.
But--although there is not any harm in't--
It's perhaps little good to dilate
On their charms to a dull little varmint
Of seven or eight.
Charles Stuart Calverley.
Email this funny poem to a friend
|
|
