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Posts Tagged ‘re-writing nursery rhymes for the modern age’

The other day, I was singing that “cheeky monkeys on the bed” song with Tiddles McGee. You know the one that goes:

Five cheeky monkeys jumping on the bed
One fell off and bumped his head
Called up the doctor and the doctor said
“No more monkeys jumping on the bed!”

And it got me thinking…

The mother in the story is quite fortunate to have such a relationship with her GP. Quite fortunate indeed. I expect that if I were to call my GP at night, rather than just advise the cheeky monkeys against jumping on the bed, he would remind me that our telephone conversation was billable and perhaps inform me of some state laws against keeping monkeys in my house without a proper permit, before finally suggesting I call a vet instead.

Anyway, the truth is that I don’t even have my GP’s private number. So I’d have to call the Nurse-On-Call helpline, wait forty five minutes to talk to someone, only to then have them tell me to take my monkey straight to emergency anyway.

And once I’ve gone through that whole process with five monkeys, that’s the whole night gone. Stupid time-wasting cheeky monkeys.

It then got me thinking about some children’s rhymes that need a real-life rewrite. Off the top of my head:

Little Jack Horner sat in a corner
Eating his christmas pie
He put in his thumb, and pulled out a plum
And his mother said “Please use your spoon and stop eating like a goddamn animal, Jack.”

One, two, three, four, five
Once I caught a fish alive
Six, seven, eight, nine, ten
Then I let it go again
Why did you it it go?
Because it was under-sized.

Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet
Eating her curds and whey
Along came a spider
Who sat down beside her
And bit her and she died.

You put your right hand in,
You put your right hand out,
You put your right hand in and you shake it all about.
You do the hokey-pokey and you turn around
And that’s what it’s all about.
Except that’s not what it’s ALL about. There’s other stuff like sex, religion, finance, global warming and reality TV stars but let’s not sing about all that right now.
Oh, the hokey-pokey… (etc).

Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye
Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie
When the pie was opened, the birds were dead.

Ten green bottles sitting on the wall
Ten green bottles sitting on the wall
And if one green bottle should accidentally fall
Your husband will be really cranky because them there’s his Heineken, bee-otch.

Twinkle twinkle little star
How I wonder what you are
Even though I just stated that you were a star.

Baa baa black sheep
Have you any wool?
“Baaaaaa baaaaaa”.

Anyone else got any others to add? C’mon! Together, we can crack this thing wide open…

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