Rhyme Stew Read online

  “How much? How much?” the Tortoise cried.

  “That all depends,” the Rat replied,

  “Which motor you require on board,

  A Rolls, a Bentley or a Ford?”

  “The fastest one!” the Tortoise said.

  “I want a racing thoroughbred!”

  The deal was struck, arrangements made

  And willingly the Tortoise paid.

  As soon as Rat was all alone

  He tiptoed to the telephone

  And asked to speak to Mister Hare,

  And said, “Hello, it’s Ratty here.”

  The Hare said, “Hello Rat, what’s new?

  And how are things tonight with you?”

  Rat answered, “Would you pay a lot

  To hear about an evil plot?

  Would you, for instance, give your shirt

  To know who’s going to do you dirt?”

  There was a silence on the line,

  Then Hare cried, “Who’s the rotten swine?

  Come on now, Ratty, tell me true!

  You know I’d do the same for you!”

  The Rat said, very soft and sly,

  “No go, old man. Goodbye, goodbye.”

  “Wait! Wait!” cried Hare. “Don’t go away!

  How much d’you want? I’ll pay! I’ll pay!”

  And so once more old Ratty made

  A very advantageous trade,

  And after he had got his fee

  He told of Torty’s villainy.

  The Hare jumped up and down and cried,

  “That’s cheating! He’s disqualified!”

  The Rat, with nauseating joy,

  Said, “Hate to tell you this, old boy,

  Your contract simply says you race,

  The two of you, from place to place.

  It doesn’t ban the clever use

  Of engines giving extra juice.”

  “I’m cooked!” the Hare yelled out. “I’m done!

  I’ll lose my favourite restaurant!”

  The Rat said, slimier than ever,

  “Are you forgetting rats are clever?

  I’m sure arrangements could be made

  Provided extra cash is paid.

  I could for instance guarantee,

  In token of this extra fee,

  That irrespective of how fast

  The Tortoise goes, you won’t be last.

  I’d see that all his tyres go flat,

  I’d guarantee it,” said the Rat.

  “How much, how much?” the other cried.

  “An awful lot,” the Rat replied.

  The Hare now paid a second bill,

  And Dirty Rat got richer still.

  This thrilling epoch-making race

  Was by agreement taking place

  Along the road beneath the hill

  To finish by the barley-mill.

  The Rat meanwhile had tipped a load

  Of spiky nails across the road,

  Then hid himself, when that was done,

  Behind the hedge to see the fun.

  Spectators all along the way

  Had come to watch and shout hooray,

  The field-mice, weasels, hedgehogs, stoats

  And rabbits in their furry coats

  All lined the route and waved their flags

  And picnicked out of paper-bags.

  An ancient fox who ran the show

  Yelled out, “Get ready! Steady! Go!”

  Now Torty gunned his great machine

  And off he went in clouds of steam,

  And soon because of all that power

  Was doing fifty miles an hour.

  Each time he had to change a gear,

  Black smoke came belching from his rear.

  Each time he had to use the brake,

  His shell began to creak and shake.

  But oh, it was a wondrous thing

  To see a tortoise on the wing.

  “I’m going to win with lengths to spare!”

  The Tortoise yelled to Mister Hare.

  “Oh no you’re not!” the Hare replied,

  “For I’ve got Ratty on my side!”

  And just a moment after that

  All four of Torty’s tyres went flat.

  He had to stop. He had no choice,

  And Hare, in an exultant voice,

  Cried out, “Well, that’s the end of you!

  Stand back! Stand back! I’m coming through!”

  The Hare forgot that just ahead

  Lay all the nails that Rat had spread.

  The spiky things were everywhere

  And silly foolish Mister Hare

  Had spikes in every foot and toe!

  He couldn’t run! He couldn’t go!

  He shouted, “I can run no more!

  We’ll have to call the race a draw.”

  The Tortoise, all his tyres flat,

  Said sadly, “I agree to that.”

  Meanwhile the dirty Mister Rat

  Went home and counted all his pay.

  He’d had a profitable day.

  So just remember if you can,

  Don’t tangle with a business man.

  It doesn’t matter who you choose,

  They always win, we always lose.

  If you were here and I was there,

  If you were Tortoise, I was Hare,

  We’d both get diddled in the end

  By people like our Ratty friend.

  The Price of Debauchery

  My mother said, “There are no joys

  In ever kissing silly boys.

  Just one small kiss and one small squeeze

  Can land you with some foul disease.”

  “But Mum, d’you mean from just a kiss?”

  “You know quite well my meaning, miss.”

  Last week when coming home from school

  I clean forgot Mum’s golden rule.

  I let Tom Young, that handsome louse,

  Steal one small kiss behind my house.

  Oh, woe is me! I’ve paid the price!

  I should have listened to advice.

  My mum was right one hundredfold!

  I’ve caught Tom’s horrid runny cold!

  Physical Training

  Our gym-instructress, Miss McPhee,

  When gym was over, said to me,

  “Stay on, Bill Smith, I’ll teach you things.

  I’ll make you better on the rings,

  And after that let’s reinforce

  Your work upon the vaulting horse.”

  I stayed behind. She shut the door.

  She’d never been so kind before.

  She said, “So you can get it right

  I’ll have to hold you very tight.”

  She held me here, she held me there,

  By gum, she held me everywhere.

  She kindly taught me, after that,

  To wrestle with her on the mat.

  Oh! gosh, the things she taught to me,

  Our gym-instructress, Miss McPhee!

  The Emperor’s New Clothes

  The Royal Tailor, Mister Ho,

  Had premises on Savile Row,

  And thence the King would make his way

  At least a dozen times a day.

  His passion was for gorgeous suits

  And sumptuous cloaks and fur-lined boots

  And brilliant waistcoats lined in red,

  Hand-sewn with gold and silver thread.

  Within the Palace things were grand,

  With valets everywhere on hand

  To hang the clothes and clean and press

  And help the crazy King to dress.

  But clothes are very dangerous things,

  Especially for wealthy kings.

  This King had gone to pot so fast,

  His clothes came first, his people last.

  One valet who was seen to leave

  A spot of gravy on a sleeve

  Was hung from rafters by his hair

  And left forever dangling there.r />
  Another who had failed to note

  A fleck of dust upon a coat

  Was ordered to be boiled alive,

  A fate not easy to survive.

  And one who left a pinch of snuff

  Upon a pale-blue velvet cuff

  Was minced inside a large machine

  And reappeared as margarine.

  Oh, what a beastly horrid King!

  The people longed to do him in!

  And so a dozen brainy men

  Met secretly inside a den

  To formulate a subtle plot

  To polish off this royal clot.

  Up spake the very brainiest man

  Who cried, “I’ve got a wizard plan.

  Please come with me. We all must go

  To see the royal tailor, Ho.

  We’ll tell him very strong and true

  Exactly what he’s got to do.”

  So thus the secret plans were laid

  And all arrangements quickly made.

  T’was winter-time with lots of snow

  And every day the King would go

  To ski a bit before he dined

  In ski-suits specially designed.

  But even on these trips he’d stop

  To go into the tailor’s shop.

  “O Majesty!” cried Mister Ho,

  “I cannot wait to let you know

  That I’ve contrived at last to get

  From secret weavers in Tibet

  A cloth so magical and fine,

  So unbelievably divine,

  You’ve never seen its like before

  And never will do any more!”

  The King yelled out, “I’ll buy the lot!

  I’ll purchase every yard you’ve got!”

  The tailor smiled and bowed his head.

  “O honoured sire,” he softly said,

  “This marvellous magic cloth has got

  Amazing ways to keep you hot,

  And even when it’s icy cold

  You still feel warm as molten gold.

  However hard the north wind blows

  You still won’t need your underclothes.”

  The King said, “If it’s all that warm,

  I’ll have a ski-ing uniform!

  I want ski-trousers and a jacket!

  I don’t care if it costs a packet!

  Produce the cloth. I want to see

  This marvellous stuff you’re selling me.”

  The tailor, feigning great surprise,

  Said, “Sire, it’s here before your eyes.”

  The King said, “Where? Just tell me where.”

  “It’s in my hands, o King, right here!”

  The King yelled, tearing at his hair,

  “Don’t be an ass! There’s nothing there!”

  The tailor cried, “Hold on, I pray!

  There’s something I forgot to say!

  This cloth’s invisible to fools

  And nincompoops and other ghouls.

  For brainless men who’re round the twist

  This cloth does simply not exist!

  But seeing how you’re wise and bright,

  I’m sure it glistens in your sight.”

  Now right on cue, exactly then,

  In burst the dozen brainy men.

  They shouted, “Oh, what lovely stuff!

  We want some too! D’you have enough?”

  Extremely calm, the tailor stands,

  With nothing in his empty hands,

  And says, “No, no! this gorgeous thing

  Is only for my lord, the King.”

  The King, not wanting to admit

  To being a proper royal twit

  Cried out, “Oh, isn’t it divine!

  I want it all! It’s mine! It’s mine!

  I want a ski-ing outfit most

  So I can keep as warm as toast!”

  The brainy men all cried, “Egad!

  Oh, Majesty, you lucky lad!

  You’ll feel so cosy in the snow

  With temps at zero and below!”

  Next day the tailor came to fit

  The costume on the royal twit.

  The brainy men all went along

  To see that nothing should go wrong.

  The tailor said, “Strip naked, sire.

  This suit’s so warm you won’t require

  Your underclothes or pants or vest

  Or even hair upon your chest.”

  And now the clever Mister Ho

  Put on the most terrific show

  Of dressing up the naked King

  In nothing – not a single thing.

  “That’s right sir, slip your arm in there,

  And now I’ll zip you up right here.

  Do you feel comfy? Does it fit?

  Or should I take this in a bit?”

  Now during this absurd charade,

  And while the King was off his guard,

  The brainy men, so shrewd and sly,

  Had turned the central heating high.

  The King, although completely bare,

  With not a stitch of underwear,

  Began to sweat and mop his brow,

  And cried, “I do believe you now!

  I feel as though I’m going to roast!

  This suit will keep me warm as toast!”

  The Queen, just then, came strolling through

  With ladies of her retinue.

  They stopped. They gasped. There stood the King

  As naked as a piece of string,

  As naked as a popinjay,

  With not a fig-leaf in the way.

  He shouted, striking up a pose,

  “Behold my marvellous ski-ing clothes!

  These clothes will keep me toasty-warm

  In hail or sleet or snow or storm!”

  Some ladies blushed and hid their eyes

  And uttered little plaintive cries.

  But some, it seemed, enjoyed the pleasures

  Of looking at the royal treasures.

  A brazen wench cried, “Oh my hat!

  Hey girls, just take a look at that!”

  The Queen, who’d seen it all before,

  Made swiftly for the nearest door.

  The King cried, “Now I’m off to ski!

  You ladies want to come with me?”

  They shook their heads, so off he went,

  A madman off on pleasure bent.

  The crazy King put on his skis,

  And now, oblivious to the freeze

  He shot outdoors and ski’d away,

  Still naked as a popinjay.

  And thus this fool, so lewd and squalid,

  In half an hour was frozen solid.

  And all the nation cried, “Heigh-ho!

  The King’s deep-frozen in the snow!”

  A Little Nut-Tree

  I had a little nut-tree,

  Nothing would it bear.

  I searched in all its branches,

  But not a nut was there.

  “Oh, little tree,” I begged,

  “Give me just a few.”

  The little tree looked down at me

  And whispered, “Nuts to you.”

  The Dentist and the Crocodile

  The crocodile, with cunning smile, sat in the dentist’s chair.

  He said, “Right here and everywhere my teeth require repair.”

  The dentist’s face was turning white. He quivered, quaked and shook.

  He muttered, “I suppose I’m going to have to take a look.”

  “I want you”, Crocodile declared, “to do the back ones first.

  The molars at the very back are easily the worst.”

  He opened wide his massive jaws. It was a fearsome sight –

  At least three hundred pointed teeth, all sharp and shining white.

  The dentist kept himself well clear. He stood two yards away.

  He chose the longest probe he had to search out the decay.

  “I said to do the back ones first!” the Crocodile called out.


  “You’re much too far away, dear sir, to see what you’re about.

  To do the back ones properly you’ve got to put your head

  Deep down inside my great big mouth,” the grinning Crocky said.

  The poor old dentist wrung his hands and, weeping in despair,

  He cried, “No no! I see them all extremely well from here!”

  Just then, in burst a lady, in her hands a golden chain.

  She cried, “Oh Croc, you naughty boy, you’re playing tricks again!”

  “Watch out!” the dentist shrieked and started climbing up the wall.

  “He’s after me! He’s after you! He’s going to eat us all!”

  “Don’t be a twit,” the lady said, and flashed a gorgeous smile.

  “He’s harmless. He’s my little pet, my lovely crocodile.”

  Hot and Cold

  A woman who my mother knows

  Came in and took off all her clothes.

  Said I, not being very old,

  “By golly gosh, you must be cold!”

  “No, no!” she cried. “Indeed I’m not!

  I’m feeling devilishly hot!”

  Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves

  A very decent Arab sport

  Called Ali Baba (Al for short)

  Was standing, so’s to be polite,

  Behind a tree and out of sight,

  Performing with his normal tact

  A very simple natural act.

  While standing there and doing this

  And gazing down a small abyss,

  He suddenly became aware

  Of forty fierce horsemen there.

  They looked like thieves and thieves they were,

  Each one a vicious plunderer.

  They stopped before a mighty cliff

  And suddenly it looked as if

  This gathering of forty thieves

  Had something tricky up their sleeves.

  The leader (it was surely he)

  Now shouted, “Open Sesame!”

  And suddenly, surprise, surprise,

  In front of Ali Baba’s eyes,

  The mighty rockface opened wide

  To show a mammoth cave inside.

  Then all the forty thieves careered

  Inside the cave and disappeared.