Archive for the ‘Humor’ Category

“The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright —
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done —
“It’s very rude of him,” she said,
“To come and spoil the fun.”

The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead —
There were no birds to fly.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
If this were only cleared away,’
They said, it would be grand!’

If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose,’ the Walrus said,
That they could get it clear?’
I doubt it,’ said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.

O Oysters, come and walk with us!’
The Walrus did beseech.
A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each.’

The eldest Oyster looked at him,
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head —
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster-bed.

But four young Oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat —
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn’t any feet.

Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more —
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.

The time has come,’ the Walrus said,
To talk of many things:
Of shoes — and ships — and sealing-wax —
Of cabbages — and kings —
And why the sea is boiling hot —
And whether pigs have wings.’

But wait a bit,’ the Oysters cried,
Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!’
No hurry!’ said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.

A loaf of bread,’ the Walrus said,
Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed —
Now if you’re ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed.’

But not on us!’ the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue.
After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!’
The night is fine,’ the Walrus said.
Do you admire the view?

It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!’
The Carpenter said nothing but
Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf —
I’ve had to ask you twice!’

It seems a shame,’ the Walrus said,
To play them such a trick,
After we’ve brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!’
The Carpenter said nothing but
The butter’s spread too thick!’

I weep for you,’ the Walrus said:
I deeply sympathize.’
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

O Oysters,’ said the Carpenter,
You’ve had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?’
But answer came there none —
And this was scarcely odd, because
They’d eaten every one.”



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I went to the animal fair,
The birds and the beasts were there.
The big baboon, by the light of the moon,
Was combing his auburn hair.
The monkey, he got drunk,
And sat on the elephant’s trunk.
The elephant sneezed and fell on his knees,
And what became of the monk, the monk?

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Good folks ever will have their way –
Good folks ever for it must pay.

But we, who are here and everywhere,
The burden of their faults must bear.

We must shoulder others’ shame,
Fight their follies, and take their blame:

Purge the body, and humor the mind;
Doctor the eyes when the soul is blind;

Build the column of health erect
On the quicksands of neglect:

Always shouldering others’ shame –
Bearing their faults and taking the blame!

Deacon Rogers, he came to me;
“Wife is a-goin’ to die,” said he.

“Doctors great, an’ doctors small,
Haven’t improved her any at all.

“Physic and blister, powders and pills,
And nothing sure but the doctors’ bills!

“Twenty women, with remedies new,
Bother my wife the whole day through.

“Sweet as honey, or bitter as gall –
Poor old woman, ,she takes ’em all.

“Sour or sweet, whatever they choose;
Poor old woman, she daren’t refuse.

“So she pleases whoe’er may call,
An’ Death is suited the best of all.

Mrs. Rogers lay in her bed,
Bandaged and blistered from foot to head.

Blistered and bandaged from head to toe,
Mrs. Rogers was very low.

Bottle and saucer, spoon and cup,
On the table stood bravely up;

Physics of high and low degree;
Calomel, catnip, boneset tea;

Everything a body could bear,
Excepting light and water and air.

I opened the blinds; the day was bright,
And God gave Mrs. Rogers some light.

I opened the wind; the day was fair,
And God gave Mrs. Rogers some air.

Bottles and blisters, powders and pills,
Catnip, boneset, sirups, and squills;

Drugs and medicines, high and low,
I threw them as far as I could throw.

“What are you doing?” my patient cried;
“Frightening Death,” I coolly replied.

“You are crazy!” a visitor said:
I flung a bottle at his head.

Deacon Rogers he came to me;
“Wife is a-gettin’ her health,” said he.

“I really think she will worry through;
She scolds me just as she used to do.

“All the people have poohed an’ slurred,
All the neighbors have had their word;

“‘Twere better to perish, some of ’em say,
Than be cured in such an irregular way.”

“Your wife,” said I, “had God’s good care,
And His remedies, light and water and air.

“All of the doctors, beyond a doubt,
Couldn’t have cured Mrs. Rogers without.”

The deacon smiled and bowed his head;
“Then your bill is nothing,” he said.

“God’s be the glory, as you say!
God bless you, Doctor! Good day!  Good day!”

If ever I doctor that woman again,
I’ll give her medicine made by men.

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The donut’s a puzzle to me;
The hole has not one calorie.
I should then be able to eat
A hundred or more of that treat.

A hundred times zero is NONE!
It should be that eating’s just fun,
A feast that is purely for taste.
But still they all go to my waist.

It could be the problem’s my rule –
Examine with care my sweet jewel:
I don’t think I’ve eaten the hole
Until I have eaten the whole.


photo by Michael Lorenzo at


© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2017.

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Some humor is not quite as funny.
It’s salty, not sweet as pure honey.
It’s whimsy and wit,
And some laugh a bit
For they find this humor is punny.


photo by Billy Frank Alexander at


© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2017.

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He said WHAT!!?
Should I have said that?
He said WHAT!!?

I heard wrong?
What do I say now?
It’s awkward.

Should I ask?
That would clear things up.
Oh, I can’t!

Say something!
(Says) “It’s a nice day.”
“Yes, it is.”

Yes, heard wrong.
Whew! Doesn’t seem mad.
(Both) It’s love.


photo by Chlandra4U (C4U) at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/nWF2fie/Love+Owls


* The haiku I write are lines of 3-5-3 syllables instead of 5-7-5.

See Haiku article here for explanation, if needed:


© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2015.

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There once was a lass from Nevada
Whose actions were filled with bravada.
The spelling I know –
It should end in “o”,
But once she whipped Spanish Armada.


© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2015.

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The moon and the sun are providing
This minute a sky that’s exciting.
I’d like to say “howdy”,
But here it’s too cloudy.
So I’m at my desk these lines writing.

I wish, since I can’t see the wonder,
Because the thick clouds will not sunder,
That it would just rain –
Pitter patter my pane.
I’d like to see lightning; hear thunder.

I’ll guess I’ll just wait till the next one.
In two ought three three, there’ll be more fun.
Egads! I’ll be old!
I shouldn’t have told.
Eclipsed super moon brought admission.


I did get to see the eclipse. After I had
written the second stanza, I checked the
sky again and the clouds had parted and
there was the red moon in the heavens.


© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2015.

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A little leaning is a dangerous thing
When on the Eiffel Tower.
One leans too far fall summer winter spring,
And it’s his final hour.

A little learning of that dangerous thing
About the Eiffel Tower
May mean that one is ignorant still to cling
When it’s within his power.

Too little learning with a little lean
And dive will not be shallow
Into the Pierian spring. Instead, the scene
A fatal one, they’ll hallow.


© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2015.

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The bird with the beep beep so throaty –
Roadrunner – was chased by coyote.
But speed didn’t match;
He never could catch
That bird with the feet that were floaty. 

We kids were all fed that same story
And so the roadrunner got glory
He didn’t deserve
‘Cause someone with nerve
Made slower the faster – lied sorely.


A coyote is faster than a roadrunner:


© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2015.


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