There Once Was A Really Mean Fairy,
whose name was Euphonia Brisket.
Her face was as sour as the milk she devoured
every night, with blue cheese and a biscuit.

One thing you should know about Brisket:
she was awfully careless with magic.
Incorrect incantations she spluttered and spat
as her spell hit a Rat, which was tragic.

A request had come in by mail order,
for a love spell hand-made by E. Brisket.
Poor Ratty just happened to get in the way,
as Euphonia stirred it and whisked it.

The Rat was so suddenly love-struck,
there were stars in his eyes as he fell.
"What shall I do to woo you, my love true?"
he said, twirling his whiskers, "do tell!"

At this, the Mean Fairy went red in the face,
and chased the Rat out of the room.
"That Rat loves a Fairy! 'Ow dare 'ee!" she yelled,
as she swept him aside with her broom.

"Fairy Brisket, please listen, please do,
to the plight of a Rat who's in love.
for I've never felt this way ever before,
and my heart is all yours, my dear dove!"

"Ever looked in a mirror?" sneered Brisket.
"Tail twitchy, fur matted, teeth green - 
face the facts, my dear chap, you're a verminous Rat,
beside ME you're not fit to be seen!"

Now Brisket herself was no picture,
as the looking glass clearly revealed,
but her spell made the Rat see a glamorous beauty,
as dizzily round her he reeled.

Alas for poor Ratty! His love unrequited,
his end was most gruesome, I'm certain.
For as Brisket's patience snapped, so did the rat trap,
and then, for the Rat, it was curtains.

Poem © Lesley Moss 2013
Illustration © Bridget Strevens-Marzo 2013

Clinkety clankety clunk
Kaplunk is made of junk!

This old tin horse is tapping its feet,
it dances along the concrete street,
its iron eye is losing its sight.

Its bolts and screws are working loose,
it's finally running out of juice,
but it dances all day and it dances all night ...

Tippety tippety tap
Kaplunk is built from scrap!

This old tin horse is trotting along,
it's neighing a plinkety plunkety song,
but its rusty riveted joints complain.

It lost its rider long ago, 
a broken-down clown from a travelling show -
still it's galloping, galloping, in the rain ...

Clippety clippety clop
Kaplunk will never stop!

This old tin horse is powered by dreams,
and springs and cogs and welded-on seams.
Kaplunk is a horse automaton.

At night this horse goes cantering by,
it doesn't know where and it doesn't know why,
as its clockwork heart beats on and on ...

Clinkety clankety clunk,
Kaplunk is made of junk,
tippety tippety tap,
Kaplunk is built from scrap,
clippety clippety clop,
Kaplunk will never stop,
Tippety tap.
Scrippety scrap.
Clinkety clunk.
Jinkety junk.

Clop on, Kaplunk -
the steamhorse punk!


Poem: ©Lesley Moss 
Illustration: ©John Shelley

My hair is too short,
I wanted it long.
My hair is too pointy,
it's turned out all wrong. 

Look, here's the place, Mum said,
Hair Cut 'N' Slash.
I'll be back in five minutes,
I really must dash!


So Mum went off shopping,
it's really unfair,
cos when she came back,
I had almost no hair...

Tangles and top knots,
Dare Gel and Flair Spray,
It's not looking good.
It's a horrible hair day!

Now, said the hairdresser,
What would suit YOU?
Oh, I know! Just the thing!
It's a really cool Do!

The terrible teeth
of the hairdresser's comb
pulled my hair - how it hurt -
I said: I'm going home.

Oh, don't be so whiny,
you wild hairy child.
See my scissors! So shiny!
the hairdresser smiled.

Tangles and top knots,
Dare Gel and Flair Spray,
it's not looking good.
It's a hazardous hair day!

My poor hair!

How she snipped it,
she curled it and clipped it,
she twisted and twirled it,
she furled it and whirled it.
She prodded and primped it,
creatively crimped it,
she washed it and scrubbed it,
conditioned and rubbed it.
She rinsed it and dried it,
with hot tongs she fried it,
then spritzed it with spray.

All done!  said the hairdresser.
Now, time to pay!

Well, I used to have hair
flowing down to my toes,
but now that's all gone.
Oh, I do hope it grows.

Mum said - Take your hat off.
I said - Are you mad?
Just look at my hair!
She said - Mmm, that is bad ...

I looked in the mirror
and I just had to say:

tangles and top knots,
Dare Gel and Flair Spray,
it's not looking good.
It's a ...
HAIR
SCARE
BEWARE
day!

Poem © 2013 Lesley Moss 
Image © 2013 Mike Brownlow

I'm a scary monster and I don't care!
I've got green teeth
and bristly hair.


I'm a scary monster and I don't care!
I've got three eyes
and my ears are square.

I'm a scary monster and I don't care
if my nasty smell
pollutes the air!

I'm a scary monster and I don't care!
Cos I'm really mean
and I don't play fair.

I'm a scary monster and I don't care!
I roar and growl
and I won't share.

I'm a scary monster and I don't care
if you won't be my friend -
yes, you - over there.
Wait - you're ... an even bigger, scarier monster?

Well
now 
I 
care!

Image ©2012 Kate Pankhurst
Poem © 2012 Lesley Moss

Syllabub,
oysters,
yellow jelly,
yuck!
Quail’s eggs,
caviar,
royal food
sucks!

Royal food, royal food, 
puts me in an awful mood.
It’s all too posh, this sickly nosh,
it’s just a plate of gourmet tosh.
I really don’t mean to be rude,
but please give me some PROPER food!

Just look at this! A frightful dish
of seaweed, snails and Snapper fish.
I’d rather chew a sausage or two,
a pile of pasta, bowls of stew,
and don’t forget my egg and chips,
and five or six kebabs on sticks,

but all I get is ..

Syllabub,
oysters,
yellow jelly,
yuck!
Quail’s eggs,
caviar,
royal food
sucks!

This royal menu I decline,
I won’t sit on my throne and whine,
to eat this tripe I will refuse,
I’ll chuck it in the palace loos!
and then I’ll drop my sparkly crown,
and ride the bus down into town ...

... I’ll feast on jellied eels and pies,
with gravy, beans and chunky fries,
hunky hot dogs filled with mustard,
bowls of sponge with steaming custard,
all washed down with thick milkshake ..
My dream ends. Now I am awake,

and it’s 

Syllabub,
oysters,
yellow jelly,
yuck!
Quail’s eggs,
caviar,
royal food
sucks!


Image ©2012 Sam Zuppardi 
Poem ©2012 Lesley Moss