Your hair is blond,

your eyes are blue.

I'd walk through hell

for a kiss from you.


When I get sad, I feel blue

The whole world seems to pick on you.

The sky is dark, the colors black

I want to put my head in a sack.

But then, just when I'm full of despair,

Something happens to clear the air.

And then my world is bright

No longer am I full of fright.

My gloom is gone, my troubles vanished,

For by my will, I had them banished.

The Shock

(a child's hair-raising experience)

When I was child, young and fair, I tried to put a curl in my hair.

By sticking my finger in a socket, I felt like I was a rocket.

It started at one end and went to the other.

Soon my hair lifted, it was sizzlin', I smelled like burnt chicken.

My mom came a'runnin, she knocked me away, the socket it sparked, popped and fizzled.

My finger was sore, it hurt like the dickens,

I knew then and there that my legs were a'kickin.

Mom turned around, she was all in a frazzle, her face was white and her eyes lost their dazzle.

I opened my mouth, she said with a holler,

"Stay away from the sockets, or you'll not get taller."

Charge of the lunch brigade


Their eyes were glowing brightly, their breath was steaming hot.

They gripped their knives and forks and spoons, as they raced against the clock.

The line was growing longer, time was running out,

Soon the hungry crowd began to push, and then to shove and shout.

They licked their lips and sighed, as they gazed upon the food,

That soon would fill their bellies if the line would ever move.

The lunchtime it was slipping, fading fast away

As the clock upon the wall ticked the seconds away.

Then the line started moving, the people pushed and shoved,

Grabbing for each morsel, like manna from above.

Soon they all were sitting, gobbling every bite,

Filling each and every mouth, with all the food in sight.

Soon the time had all run out, the crowd had gone away.

The workers of the lunchroom stared out in dismay, for food was here,

And food was there, not a clean spot anywhere.

So you see my friends that this is the tale,

Of the charge of the lunch brigade


Copyright 1970-2007 by L. J. Stroud


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