I found what I thought was a condor
That was terribly sick with the flu.
But my asian vet said, “That’s ill eagle”
And now I don’t know what to do…
Tag Archives: Pun
Why Mufasa Has A Handkerchief
Simba’s nose was stuffy,
And that became an issue
When the only Kleenex he could find
Was, alas, Scar tissue.
Filed under Poems
On a Scale Of A-F, I’d Grade This An Rrrrrr
I knew a pirate captain
And boy, was he a putz!
He tried to hump his steering wheel
And complained “This is driving me nuts!”
Filed under Poems
But If It Were Traveling At 4 Miles Per Hour For 12 Minutes How Far Apart Were The Hay Bales?
Once there was some type of snake,
A cobra, asp, or adder.
Since the story’s fictional
It really doesn’t matter.
This adder, I’ve decided,
Was in a farm one day
Sliding its limbless body
Between two bales of hay.
The snake was not observant
And it failed to look both ways.
‘Twas run over by the farmer.
And thus ended its days.
So when the adder rendez-voused
With its rural malefactor
We can say the adder
Suddenly became sub-tractor.
Filed under Poems
I Just Rattled This One Off… Hope It Wasn’t Too Boa-ring!
The snake was made uncomfortable
And it gave a gasp.
You might say it experienced
A pain in the asp.
Filed under Poems
My Worst Pun Ever… Turn Your Sound Up
If you’re brazen as a basilisk,
Audacious as a drake,
Cocky as a colossus,
Saucy as a snake,
If a wyvern wouldn’t scare you
And a wyrm won’t give you palsy
Then my compliments to you dear friend
‘Cause you are this.
Filed under Poems
The Power Plant
They asked me “where’s the power plant?”
I pointed towards the woods
And they set out to find it
And claim its electric goods.
They asked me “where’s the power plant?”
And went off to the forest.
Now I picture them and laugh
‘Cause me they must abhorest.
They asked me “where’s the power plant?”
I pointed to the oaks,
The tow’ring cedar, stalwart maple,
Not intending it as a hoax.
They asked me “where’s the power plant?”
I pictured a mighty tree
Because a hundred feet of hardwood
Is a powerful plant to me.
What’s Wwong With This Stowy?
I’ve been a priest for many years
With all that such entails.
I’ve heard the common people cry
And comforted their wails.
But when a man with a speech disorder came
To church my life got dire
For until then I’d never been
Preaching to the cwier.
Filed under Poems
The Sensitive Throat
I told my throat, in a way
That was very polite (so I thought)
That although it thought it’s work was satisfactory
Truthfully it was not.
I didn’t mean to hurt its feelings
As I tried to change its ways
But I guess I did ’cause now
My throat’s been sore for days.
Filed under Poems
Half Dozen Of The Other
So many people live like eggs
It’s almost not okay.
Their only goal is, like an egg,
To get laid every day.
Filed under Poems
