Book of Nursery Rhymes
The first New Zealand poetry book to have been awarded both a New Zealand bestseller Gold medal and a New Zealand Bestseller Platinum medal. A collection of 41 nonsense verses for grown-ups and precocious kids, written and illustrated in colour by Garrick.
NURSERY RHYMES mother never read you
The first New Zealand book of poetry to be awarded New Zealand Booksellers Association Gold and platinum medals. The book contains 41 nursery rhymes for grown-ups and precocious kids. Samples can be read by clicking on the images on this page. Clicking to enlarge the cartoon image will bring up the accompanying verse.
The book can be purchased by contacting the writer via this website. Copies are NZ$20 each plus $2 postage within new Zealand.
BUTTERCUP
A little pig called Buttercup
suspected she was growing up
when she noticed on her tummy
lots of buttons just like Mummy.
"Good Grief!" she cried, "They're in two rows,
but what they're for God only knows!
Is this what's known as puberty?
Or is there something wrong with me?"
Her Mummy said "Don't be alarmed,
they're just part of our female charm;
you may well find, when you get old,
you'll be a PlayPig centerfold".
Daddy Pig was thrilled to bits,
his girl had grown thirteen tits;
he claimed they were a gift from God,
but thought thirteen was rather odd.
He'd not before seen such a set
and took her off to see the vet,
who found the reason, pure and simple,
the thirteenth one was just a pimple.
PRISCILLA
Wee Priscilla
caterpillar
feeling so contrary;
didn't mind
her fat behind
but hated being hairy.
What girl does
enjoy the fuzz
that sprouts from head to heel?
Priscilla thought
removal ought
to lift her sex appeal.
She bought a tube
of sticky goob
to rub on every day;
the label said
that if she did
the hair would go away.
She understood
that baldness would
display her figure better;
but now she's bald
she feels the cold
and has to wear a sweater.
LUCY
Lucy was a reindeer,
Lapland was her home;
went to school in Budapest,
Switzerland and Rome.
At a smart academy
in the South of France,
a vintner's daughter taught her
the finer points of dance.
"Not for me" said Lucy,
"a life of pulling sleighs;
I was born to titlilate,
startle and amaze.
I'm not a beast of burden,
it's the dancer's life I choose;
I'm going to be a household name,
have ribbons on my shoes!"
She proved to be a natural,
soon was all the rage;
people threw rose petals
as she sprang onto the stage.
She filled the Colosseum,
brought down the Albert Hall,
the toast of Munich bierfests,
she wowed them in Nepal.
She loved the adulation,
the money and the fame,
but suddenly it finished
as quickly as it came.
An Arabian promoter
introduced her in Algiers
as "Lucy the Lapp Dancer"
and she left the stage in tears.
BRIAN
Brian was a garden snail
who left a shiny, sticky trail
as he slid along dragging his behind;
ravenous snail-eaters
would follow it for metres,
it made our Brian an easy chap to find.
Brian's wife was Flossy,
rather butch and bossy,
at night she'd follow it the other way
to see where Brian had been,
it led her to Irene,
so Flossy knew that Brian wasn't gay.
But Brian couldn't win,
his trail had dobbed him in,
he admitted extra-marital offences;
if you're that way inclined
keep poor Brian in mind...
hide your tracks or face the consequences.
THE MOUSE
The biggest nuisance in a house
is the smallest occupant, a mouse
every goddamned thing he chews
and dots the shelves with tiny poos.
We've got one, precious little chap,
at least he would be in a trap,
but from the trap the cheese he'll scoff
without the damned thing going off.
One thing I really wish is that
we had a ghastly bloody cat
to disembowel him with a claw
and smear his giblets 'round the floor.
I blocked his hole up, just for spite,
jammed it up with gum real tight,
it's hardly cramped his style one bit
but he walks peculiar and can't sit.