Valentine Day was a lonely bloke,
Wherever he went, he was called a joke.
He parted his hair down the middle;
Under his arm he carried a fiddle.
His nose was big, his lips couldn’t smile,
The girls took one look and they ran a mile.
He couldn’t dance, and he couldn’t sing,
In fact, poor chap couldn’t do anything!

’Til the day he met a lonely girl,
On a chain round her neck she wore a pearl.
She parted her hair down the middle;
Under her arm she carried a fiddle.
Her nose was big, her lips couldn’t smile,
The boys took one look and they ran a mile.
She couldn’t dance and she couldn’t sing,
In fact, poor girl couldn’t do anything!

Valentine fell in love when they met;
Likewise Valentina — her heart was set.
Valentine asked, “Will you be my wife?”
“Yes,” she replied, “for the rest of my life!”

 Melvin McWhirter

had a water gun —

a super-size squirter

if I ever saw one!

One day in the pool

Melvin went barmy —

just by playing the fool,

he made a tsunami.

He squeezed the trigger

faster and faster;

the cascade grew bigger

and then came — disaster!

A wave so immense

swept Melvin from sight,

right over the back fence

and we don’t know his plight.

James Aitchison

I have a fish in my room made of metal,

(the fish, that is, not my room).  The fish is

green and bold, with a mouth shaped like a kettle.

Why not a flower with a nice rosy petal?

I’m a Pisces; my fish is auspicious.

A monster lives in my Christmas tree;

he shakes the branches at half-past three.

The tinsel swings from side to side,

the decorations slip and slide,

Jingle-dingle!  Jingle-dingle!

Tinkly dingles intermingle.

Even if I stand up on a chair,

I can’t see him — but I know he’s there!

Then I gave him a monstrous cake,

and now he’s got a tummy ache.

There’s no more monster in my tree

so Santa Claus can come to me!

James Aitchison

 Let’s go to Toowoomba,

The two of us by bus,

Toot, toot to Toowoomba,

We won’t cause any fuss.

Let’s all go to Weewaa,

We’ll ride there on a horse,

Whee-hee-hee to Weewaa,

I’ll bring tomato sauce.

Let’s all go to Bairnsdale,

Upon a fleecy sheep,

Baaaaaaa to Bairnsdale,

But please don’t fall asleep.

Let’s all go to Hawthorn,

We’ll ride a donkey there,

Hee-haw-haw to Hawthorn,

Without a single care.

– 

James Aitchison

Irving McDrane can fly a plane;

He flies it up and down again.

He flies by night, he flies by day,

Upside down or up the right way.

He loops the loop and barrel rolls,

Through the air he twists and scrolls,

Across the sky with great panache …

Look out, Irving — you’re going to crash!

SPLAT!

Irving McDrane can’t fly a plane;

Now he goes everywhere by train.