Why I Shouldn’t Get Detention Today

Early this morning, at quarter to five

I lay tossing and turning, more dead than alive.

I lay there awake, though I’d counted the sheep

And I’d counted them back again, still couldn’t sleep!

I closed my eyes tightly, my eyelids quite scrunched,

I tried stretching out long, I tried curling up hunched,

I threw off the covers when I felt too hot,

Then my feet got caught up in a tangled sheet knot.

I thought about summer, and days in the sun,

Then I thought about school, and my homework, undone.

So I worried, and fretted,

And panicked and sweated,

I turned to the left and I turned to the right,

And was still wide awake when the first rays of light

Came in through my window too early, too bright!

So I got out of bed, and I sat down to write.

So by seven fifteen, my homework was finished

And my wide-awake state was greatly diminished.

And I thought I had time to score a few zeds,

So, dead tired and sleepy, I went back to bed.

But I didn’t wake up when my Mum called my name,

And slept till eleven - so I’m not to blame

For turning up late - see I’ve done my assignment

And that’s why I don’t deserve post-school confinement!

The Great Laze-aholic

I wake in the morning to brilliant sun,

And turn over again, ‘cause my bed’s much more fun.

My friends come around and say’ “Come out and play!”

But playing’s hard work, and I’d much rather stay

Here at home, and just lounge by the fire all day long,

With the dog, we’ll just listen to our favourite song.

I have some maths homework, but I think I’ll choose

To go back to my bed, ‘cause it’s time for a snooze.

I know I should study for next Monday’s test,

But I can’t help myself, see, I just need a rest.

After that, then I'll put on my best thinking cap,

But before I start thinking I’ll need a quick nap.

I owe Auntie June a nice long thank-you letter

For the present she gave me, but sleeping’s much better.

I’d love to play football, to run and to skip -

I’ll do it just after a much needed kip.

My folks have gone out to the town’s big fiesta,

But I haven’t got time, ‘cause I need my siesta.

I told Mum and Dad I’ve a touch of the colic,

I don’t know if they’ve guessed; I’m the Great Laze-aholic!

Stood Up?

The little boy sat on his ball, all alone,

Just twiddling his fingers and thumbs.

He couldn’t decide: was it best to go home,

Or wait longer for people to come?

They’d arranged to meet up at a quarter past four,

By the swings he had said that he’d see ‘em.

He’d already waited an hour, or more.

Could it be that they thought he meant p.m.?

Firefly

I’ve come to a hedgerow behind the old church,

Where the woods and the village converge,

For it’s here that I come every year in my search

For the one who’ll assuage this great urge.

Every summer I bask in my hedge out of sight,

And my tummy goes brown in the sun,

Then at nighttime it shines like a beacon of light,

I go out to be seen - and have fun!

Then I’m beautiful, charming; the belle of the ball,

And the boys can’t resist my bright fire.

I know they’re just beetles, but they’re in my thrall:

Their command is my every desire.

So we dance, and we shimmy and flash off and on

And together we light up the night.

And our love may not quite be Layla and Majnun

But our courtship’s a wonderful sight.

Too Hot

It’s stifling hot, the sweating drips,

The droplets fall like lemon pips.

How hot’s it got to be before

Headmaster shuts the old school door?

When does the weather feller say

Don’t go to school, go out and play

Down by the river, at the beach? 

‘S too hot to learn, too hot to teach.

It’s stifling hot, I’m sweating cobs,

It’s much too hot to do my jobs.

Too hot to go to work today,

So Mum and Dad… whaddaya say?

The Great Intellecticle

I don’t have a thinking cap

So how am I supposed to think?

I make a cap from bubble wrap,

And with indelible black ink,

I draw some whiskers on my chin,

Put on Dad’s reading spectacles.

Then stroke my beard, and I turn in

To this great intellecticle.

Dreams

I’ve never been to Alabama,

I’ve never been to Kathmandu,

I’ve never met the Dalai Lama,

Nor Spiderman, nor Fu Manchu.

I’ve never seen the Northern Lights,

Nor climbed an ancient redwood tree.

I haven’t seen so many sights

That people say you have to see.

But I have dreamed of all these things,

From underneath the sheets and covers.

I’ve even heard the mermaids sing

To luckless, star-crossed sailor lovers.

And I can still see all those places,

The views from up the redwood tree.

I still remember all those faces,

It’s just - they don’t remember me.