This could get a bit dVerse as the cat goes through this strange rhyming universe. I want that damn goose. You know, that one that has golden eggs come out its caboose. So I figured I would talk to the dVerse cast of characters in rhyme land and see if they could give the cat a hand. It was anything but bland. But I'm not quite sure it would be considered grand. For they just can't keep up with me having one whole rhyme when I have many. Anyway, here we go, as it's time for the show.
The golden eggs I want.
They're so shiny they taunt.
The cat must have the goose.
Not some lame Canadian moose.
So off to find a clue,
And prove this legend true.
As I delve into rhyme land,
For a helping hand.
Georgie Porgie was no help,
He just made girls yelp.
Humpty Dumpty was on crack.
And fell from his shack.
Some twinkling star,
Blinded me from afar.
Simple Simon had no hair,
And kept whining about a fair.
The weasel went pop.
Someone called a cop.
Many were busy patting a cake,
When it would take less time to bake.
That black sheep,
Was a real creep.
Would not share its wool,
With three bags full.
The rain came on down,
And it almost made me drown.
Rain rain would not go away,
Like it did another day.
I chased people around the rosy,
But they thought I was nosy.
John Jacob jingled too much,
As he walked on his crutch.
Some cat had a fiddle,
And sang about a diddle diddle.
Sadly I've be fixed,
So that idea was nixed.
From some Alexander,
I heard of Goosey Goosey Gander.
Had my hopes high,
But it was just some costume wearing guy.
Londen bells started to ring,
As the queen of hearts let her hands fling.
I wasn't going to bow,
No matter how she raised her ugly eyebrow.
That Itsy Bitsy Spider I ate,
I missed supper, don't hate.
The piper seemed calm,
As his son Tom was the bomb.
But neither knew a helpful fact,
Wee Willie Winkie was a scary act.
Old Mother Hubbard was a senile bat,
She thought I was a dog and not a cat.
Three blind mice were well blind,
So they couldn't help my behind.
Mary chased her lamb,
As she yelled I feel for a scam.
Some hush a bye baby song,
At some points sounded so wrong.
Just eat an apple a day,
And all will be right at your bay.
A Peter Pumpkin eater,
Picked me up in some old beater.
But he crashed the car,
Trying to open another pumpkin jar.
Good thing too,
Because London Bridge fell from view.
I guess it was some trick or treat,
As it had to smell too many feet.
Polly had a kettle,
And it wasn't made of metal.
It was pure gold.
I listened as her tale took hold.
She said what I seek,
Lied with those who squeal not squeak.
Some little piggies I guess,
They needed the eggs to cure some toe jam mess.
I guess it cost a lot,
To have it fixed by a robot.
I ignored the wee wee one,
The one who stayed home was no fun.
The roastbeef was good,
The other had nothing but wood.
Finally at the market it was found,
The goose sat on the ground.
The pig wanted a ton,
So I snatched the goose and began to run.
It then popped out an egg,
And it hit my leg.
The thing burst open all over me.
It was so gross to see.
I started to pout,
As it turns out,
If touched by a rhyming cat,
The gold falls flat.
The eggs go normal forever more.
No one knew that bit of lore.
So I set the thing free,
And it sailed up into a tree.
Giving me some snarky honking roar,
As I went home empty handed and yes, I swore.
How do you like those facts? Of all the rhyming acts and I am the one that makes the gold go away. Oh that just caused me so much dismay. But I guess it was a fun time strolling through the land of rhyme. After all I got to prove that with their one whole rhyming groove, they pale in mass when compared to my little rhyming ass.
Enjoy your winter, smash a printer.