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The Fat Budgie

I have a little budgie He is my very pal I take him walks in Britain I hope I always shall. I call my budgie Jeffrey My grandads name's the same I call him after grandad Who had a feathered brain. Some people don't like budgies The little yellow brats They eat them up for breakfast Or give them to their cats. My uncle ate a budgie It was so fat and fair. I cried and called him Ronnie He didn't seem to care Although his name was Arthur It didn't mean a thing. He went into a petshop And ate up everything. The doctors looked inside him, To see what they could do, But he had been too greedy He died just like a zoo. My Jeffrey chirps and twitters When I walk into the room, I make him scrambled egg on toast And feed him with a spoon. He sings like other budgies But only when in trim But most of all on Sunday Thats when I plug him in. He flies about the room sometimes And sits upon my bed And if he's really happy He does it on my head. He's on a diet now you know From eating far too much They say if he gets fatter He'll have to wear a crutch. It would be funny wouldn't it A budgie on a stick Imagine all the people Laughing till they're sick. So that's my budgie Jeffrey Fat and yellow too I love him more than daddie And I'm only thirty two.

Жила-была хрюшка и сеть гнойников

Однажды, как-то раз, далеко-далече, за тридевять дисней — скажем, триста лет отсюдова, коли вам хочется, — жили-были в неясном лесу гнойники, или кретинчики, целая сеть, а звали их: Грязнуля, Брюзга, Трусишка, Пустобрех, Зубоскал, Алис? Забияка — и Сосиска. Так вот, копались они, копошились, значит, в алмазных прудниках, бааагатых без чего-то. Каждый раз, когда они шли домой с горботы, они пели песенку — совсем как обычные горбочие, — а звучала она, кажется, так: «Йо-хо! Йо-хо! На горботу мы идем!» — в общем-то глупо, ведь шли они к себе домой (хотя может и дома надо было маленько горбатиться).