ABSURDLAND

ABSURDLAND

If you take the road to the end of the earth,
bypassing Yeovil, Nairn, and Holmfirth,
chances are you'll eventually come by
a steeple that doesn't point to the sky.
Go where it points across shifting sand
and you'll find yourself in Absurdland.
Its language consists of only one word,
absurdly enough that word is absurd.
Pigs fly backwards across the sky
though no-one's ever thought to ask why,
hamsters grow to eleven feet tall,
local giraffes have no necks at all.
In winter the sheep wear tartan trews
and always go out in sensible shoes.
Absurders are able to see in the dark,
useful to spot an approaching snark.
Each of them has an additional nose;
if one of them sniffs, the other blows.
Ears much larger than mine or yours
subject them to jokes about taxi doors.
If you end up in this oddest of places
try not to stare at the resident's faces;
though they might seem weird to you,
they'll probably think you're absurd too.

SQUIRMING SAM

There once was a worm called Squirming Sam
Who lived in the soil beneath Birmingham.
One day when he came to the surface for air
He beheld a sight that made him despair.

All around and above was a tangle of roads
Filled with juggernauts bearing monstrous loads,
Delivery vans, pick-ups and salesmen's cars,
Completely blocking Sam's view of the stars.

He'd come up at the junction they called Spaghetti
Where that Volvo had squashed his Auntie Betty.
The thought was enough to make Sam squirm
And convince him this was no place for a worm.