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Category: Funny Nonsense Poems
       Classic humorous and funny poems, absurd and whimsical, foolish, no meaning, nonsense, and generally not making a lot of sense.


A rollicking Mastodon lived in Spain,
    In the trunk of a Tranquil Tree.
His face was plain, but his jocular vein
    Was a burst of the wildest glee.
His voice was strong and his laugh so long
    That people came many a mile,
And offered to pay a guinea a day
    For the fractional part of a smile.

The Rollicking Mastodon's laugh was wide--
    Indeed, 'twas a matter of family pride;
And oh! so proud of his jocular vein
    Was the Rollicking Mastodon over in Spain.

The Rollicking Mastodon said one day,
    "I feel that I need some air,
For a little ozone's a tonic for bones,
    As well as a gloss for the hair."
So he skipped along and warbled a song
    In his own triumphulant way.
His smile was bright and his skip was light
    As he chirruped his roundelay.

The Rollicking Mastodon tripped along,
    And sang what Mastodons call a song;
But every note of it seemed to pain
    The Rollicking Mastodon over in Spain.

A Little Peetookle came over the hill,
    Dressed up in a bollitant coat;
And he said, "You need some harroway seed,
    And a little advice for your throat."
The Mastodon smiled and said, "My child,
    There's a chance for your taste to grow.
If you polish your mind, you'll certainly find
    How little, how little you know."

The Little Peetookle, his teeth he ground
    At the Mastodon's singular sense of sound;
For he felt it a sort of a musical stain
    On the Rollicking Mastodon over in Spain.

"Alas! and alas! has it come to this pass?"
    Said the Little Peetookle. "Dear me!
It certainly seems your horrible screams
    Intended for music must be!"
The Mastodon stopped, his ditty he dropped,
    And murmured, "Good morning, my dear!
I never will sing to a sensitive thing
    That shatters a song with a sneer!"

The Rollicking Mastodon bade him "adieu."
    Of course 'twas a sensible thing to do;
For Little Peetookle is spared the strain
    Of the Rollicking Mastodon over in Spain.

                                                         Arthur Macy.

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