WINNER of the Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest 3/27/2020

March 27, 2020March 29, 2020Chel Owens

♪ Happy Birthday to me… Happy birthday to you! ♫

It’s Birthday Season ’round our place (mine was Monday). Which of our esteemed entrants sang the most terribly?

Untitled piece

by Ruth Scribbles

Spoken:
As we don’t gather
On this day to blather
Let me sweetly remind you
About your place in history

Chant:
You are old
Older than dirt
You are old
Not a little squirt

Sing:
Happy birthday to you
You’re not allowed to boohoo
The virus will leave us
Yippe yay, ha-lle-luuuuuu

Congratulations, Ruth! You are the most terrible poet of the week!

We had terrible subject, terrible singing, and terrible wishes. I felt Ruth’s song encapsulated just the wrong sort of thing one wants to hear on her birthday anniversary, plus a lovely dusting of lazy lyrics for that extra bad poetry effect.

(I also hope she sings it to her hubby, whose birthday is tomorrow!)

If you’re needing a ‘lift’ for your own birthday, may I recommend any of the following:

Happy birthday, as sung by owls

by Doug Jacquier

Hootie, hootie, hoot, hoot
Hootie, hootie, hoot, hoot
Hootie, hootie, ‘lil owlet
Hootie, hootie, hoot, hoot.

—–

Toilet humour

by Doug Jacquier

Oh, dear, what will we do
We’re singing to you
But you’re not here to hear us
‘Cos you’re locked in the loo.

—–

Farmer’s birthday song

by Doug Jacquier

Happy dirt day to you
It’s raining for you
And now there’s some sunshine
Happy dirt day to you.

—–

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by Matt Snyder

Crappy birther day to you
You smell like one [heck] of a giant half submerged and sticking out of the bowl poo
Crappiest born day dear Mr. Mattttttttttttthhhhhhhhhhhheeeeewwwwww
Crappy birther day
to yooooooooooou
and many more pellets falling out your pants leg
now scurry real fast down to the loo

—–

Untitled piece

by Trent McDonald

Healthy birthday to you!
Sequestered birthday to you!
Virus-free birthday dear Chelsea,
(Hope you have enough TP too!)

—–

That Time of Year

by Fishman

Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to you,
Have a cake made of frosted honeydew,
Happy Birthday to you.

Your birthday is soon,
(Is your favorite color maroon?)
Enjoy being another year older
Happy Birthday to you.

+ + + + + + + +

Hey, listen up, this is a poem.
So sit down and don’t you roam.
It might be kinda terrible.
But it’s still bearable.
And I’ve only got one.
So it’s not spareable.

So I hope you sat down because I got something to say:
The Terrible Poetry woman is having a birthday.
Is that cool?
Better than a sliced boule?
Tell me, what do you say?
Who doesn’t like birthdays?

I’m guessing that jellyfish don’t like birthdays because they don’t have brains so they wouldn’t even know what a birthday is if they even knew when their birthday was.

So the Terrible Poetry woman needs a present.
But not a pheasant.

(Ants probably don’t like birthdays either because their brains are really small)

Something more pleasant.
Like a flower.
Happy Birthday Terrible Poetry Woman (and to everyone else in the TPW’s house)

—–

Untitled piece

by Gary

How many birthdays you have seen
So many decades since you were a teen
Happy Birthday Dear Has Been
Happy Birthday to me, now sod off and pour me a Jim Beam

—–