Scott Sampson

In the recent vein of odd and silly posts, here’s another one for you.

The fam­ous speaker who no one had heard of said:
Ladies and jelly­spoons, hobos and tramps,
cross-eyed mos­qui­tos and bow-legged ants,
I stand before you to sit behind you
to tell you some­thing I know noth­ing about.
Next Thursday, which is Good Friday,there’s a Mother’s Day meet­ing for fath­ers only;
wear your best clothes if you haven’t any.Please come if you can’t;
if you can, stay at home.
Admis­sion is free, pay at the door;
pull up a chair and sit on the floor.
It makes no dif­fer­ence where you sit,the man in the gallery’s sure to spit.
The show is over, but before you go,let me tell you a story I don’t really know.
One bright day in the middle of the night,
two dead boys got up to fight.
(The blind man went to see fair play; the mute man went to shout “hoo­ray!”)
Back to back they faced each other,drew their swords and shot each other.
A deaf police­man heard the noise,
and came and killed the two dead boys.
A para­lysed don­key passing by
kicked the blind man in the eye;
knocked him through a nine-inch wall,
into a dry ditch and drowned them all.
If you don’t believe this lie is true,
ask the blind man; he saw it too,
through a knothole in a wooden brick wall.
And the man with no legs walked away. 

Another one:

One midsummer’s night in winter
The snow was rain­ing fast,
A bare-footed girl with clogs on
Stood sit­ting on the grass. 

and

I went to the pic­tures tomor­row
I took a front seat in the back,
I fell from the pit to the gal­lery
And broke a front bone in my back.
A lady she gave me some chocol­ate,
I ate it and gave it her back.
I phoned for a taxi and walked it,
And that’s why I never came back. 

Here’s another:

’Tis mid­night and the set­ting sun
Is slowly rising in the west.
The rapid rivers slowly run.
The frog is on his downy nest.
The pens­ive goat and sport­ive cow,
Hil­ari­ous, leap from bough to bough. 

And another:

While on a Thursday morn­ing, one Sunday night,
I saw, ten thou­sand miles away, a house just out of sight.
Its walls reflec­ted inward, its front was at its back.
It stood alone between two more
and its walls were white­wash black. 

Oh lord…

On the Ning Nang Nong
Where the Cows go Bong!
and the mon­keys all say BOO!
There’s a Nong Nang Ning
Where the trees go Ping!
And the tea pots jib­ber jab­ber joo.
On the Nong Ning Nang
All the mice go Clang
And you just can’t catch ‘em when they do!
So its Ning Nang Nong
Cows go Bong!
Nong Nang Ning
Trees go ping
Nong Ning Nang
The mice go Clang
What a noisy place to belong
is the Ning Nang Ning Nang Nong!! 

And my favour­ite of all time…

There was a baboon
Who one after­noon
Said I think I will fly to the sun
So with great palms
strapped to his arms
he star­ted he takeoff run

Mile after mile
He gal­loped in style
But never once left the ground
You’re going too slow said a passing crow
Try reach­ing the speed ofsound

SO
he put on a spurt
My God how it hurt
both the soles of his feet caught on fire
As he went through a stream
There were great clouds of steam
Buthe never got any higher

On and on through the night
both his knees caught alight
clouds of smoke bil­lowed out of his rear!!!
Quick to his aid
Were the fire bri­gade
They chased him for over a year

Many moons passed by
Did Baboon ever fly
Did he ever get to the sun
I’ve just heard today,
he’s well on his way
He’ll be passing through Acton at one.

PS — well, what do you expect from a baboon