Posts Tagged ‘parody’




Hush little baby, don’t say a word,

mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird.

And if that mockingbird don’t fly,

mama’s gonna bake you a Brussel sprout pie,

and if that pie crust doesn’t brown,

mama’s gonna buy you a circus clown,

and if that clown has got a knife,

mama’s gonna make you purple kite,

and if that kite gets tangled in the tree,

mama’s gonna buy you a wooden knee,

and if that wooden knee won’t bend,

mama’s gonna find you a golden hen,

and if that golden hen won’t lay,

mama’s gonna buy you a bale of hay,

and if that bale of hay’s too damp,

mama’s gonna buy you a lava lamp,

and if that lava lamp don’t shine,

mama’s gonna draw you a dotted line,

and if that dotted line’s too straight,

mama’s gonna keep you up too late

and if her lullaby goes all wrong,

mama’s gonna sing you a different song.

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Ding dong dell
promise not to tell.
Her one wide eye—
the men walk by.
Ying yang yes,
the thin red dress.
Her slender white arms
collect the men like charms.
Slink, kiss, kiss.
She wears them on her wrists.
Who let her in?
Every one of them.
How do they get out?
Ding dong doubt.

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Ring around the rosie
pocket full of posies
ashes ashes
we all fall down

Sing around the secret
pockets full of deep debt
credit, credit
we all fall down.

Spring around the danger
prayers full of anger
rifle, rifle
we all fall down.

Dance around each other
foes instead of lovers
righteous, righteous
we all fall down.

Swimming through the darkness
choosing to be heartless
tight fist, tight fist,
we all fall down.

Pointing with our fingers
blame and guilt and whimper
ashes, ashes
we all fall down.

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He was tired, ah choo!
of the whole, predictable, ah choo,

tale. The way the princess, ah choo!
how she, sniff, how she, sniff,

how she always rode off
with the well-muscled man

on the, ah choo, horse. Often white.
He was, he decided,

allergic to ha-, ha-, ha-
happy endings. Ah choo!

Just whose happiness
were they considering,

not his, with his snot-nose name,
his raw nostrils, his perpetual sniffling

and blowing, wheezing and phlegm.
That day that the white-skinned one arrived,

no matter how lovely by some standards,
no matter how sweetly she patted him on the head,

no matter how innocent her intentions,
that was the day he wrote his resignation,

took Dopey by the stubby hand and said,
Man, it’s time to write a new kind of story.

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