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May 12, 2006
Poetry Friday, you say?
It's only fitting ....
The Fat Budgie
by John Lennon, from the book "A Spaniard in the Works"
(I still have most of this memorized from my childhood. I'm not sure what that tells you about my childhood.)
I have a little budgie
He is my very pal
I take him walks in Britain
I hope I always shall.
I call my budgie Jeffrey
My grandads name's the same
I call him after grandad
Who had a feathered brain.
Some people don't like budgies
The little yellow brats
They eat them up for breakfast
Or give them to their cats.
My uncle ate a budgie
It was so fat and fair.
I cried and called him Ronnie
He didn't seem to care
Although his name was Arthur
It didn't mean a thing.
He went into a petshop
And ate up everything.
The doctors looked inside him,
To see what they could do,
But he had been too greedy
And died just like a zoo.
My Jeffrey chirps and twitters
When I walk into the room,
I make him scrambled egg on toast
And feed him with a spoon.
He sings like other budgies
But only when in trim
But most of all on Sunday
Thats when I plug him in.
He flies about the room sometimes
And sits upon my bed
And if he's really happy
He does it on my head.
He's on a diet now you know
From eating far too much
They say if he gets fatter
He'll have to wear a crutch.
It would be funny wouldn't it
A budgie on a stick
Imagine all the people
Laughing till they're sick.
So that's my budgie Jeffrey
Fat and yellow too
I love him more than daddie
And I'm only thirty two.
Posted by lynx at May 12, 2006 10:55 AM
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Comments
I remember this poem, although I didn't memorize it. My brother had the book. I memorized the poems in Pogo comics instead of this.
Perhaps this is why we are seeking a classical education for our children.
Posted by: GailV at May 16, 2006 6:02 PM