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Jars & Pickles

Jars and Pickles

Our George was a pickler,
pickles were his number,
pickled eggs and cucumbers,
and pickled meats for dinner.

He kept ‘em all in pickle jars,
some small, some large, some, round
and they were in his out house
where pickles would abound.

Some had pull tops, screw tops, twist,
some were sealed with paper, greased
and he'd strive to fill them up with treats
as his wife Lilly loved her treats.

Oh yes Lilly loved a pickle,
cauliflower was new and so
George would endeavour
to pickle quite a few.

Oh yes George loved to pickle
and finally broke through
when he made his dear wife Lilly
the proudest gal, tis true

for there upon the table,
all tied up with string
was a jar called Picalilly,
that made Lil's heart go zing!

poem by Ruth Walters
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Ode to A Sour Pickle

Ode to a sour pickle,
To pucker up your puss.
Lay down a shiny nickel,
Come on, don't be a wuss.

The heck with kosher dills,
And sweet little pickles too.
It's sour pickles for your gills,
Can't take a thing in lieu.

A big ole sour pickle,
Will bring on a grimace.
Where they're concerned I'm fickle,
Please bear me no malice.

12/23/10 Alton Texas

poem by by unknown author
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Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me Too

Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too,
Went for a ride in a flying shoe,
'Hooray!'
'What fun!'
'It's time we flew!'
Said Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too.

Ickle was captain, Pickle was crew,
And Tickle served coffee and mulligan stew
As higher
And higher
And higher they flew,
Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too.

Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too,
Over the sun and beyond the blue. '
Hold on!'
'Stay in!'
'I hope we do!'
Cried Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too.

Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too
Never returned to the world they knew,
And nobody
knows what's
happened to
Dear Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too.

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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The Puckering Pickle Parade!

In a place called Pizanna,
Miss Lana-Leeanna
Makes a lip-locking lemonade!
But the bittersweet bounty
Of Cucumber County
Is the Puckering Pickle Parade! ! !

A tart and tangy tango,
Marsh moon like a mango,
As vinegar vapors invade...
Boy, the bittersweet bounty
Of Cucumber County
Is the Puckering Pickle Parade! ! !

So befriend and embellish,
Come garnish and relish,
The gherkins of Gooseberry Glade!
It's the pride and pure power,
(The sweet and the sour)
Of the Puckering Pickle Parade!

The Puckering Pickle Parade...
The Puckering Pickle Parade...
Pulp times are had...
Dill friends are made...
At the Puckering Pickle...
Pick three for a nickel...
The Puckering Pickle Parade! ! !

When it's one-fourteen in the shade...
Oh the bittersweet bounty
Of Cucumber County
Is the Puckering Pickle Parade! ! !

From the new book 'The Puckering Pickle Parade: And Other Read Aloud Poems4Kids' by Todd St. Pierre

See www.LouisianaBoy.com

poem by ToddMichael St. Pierre
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The fact that they're a congressionally chartered group should no more incline people to give to that group than the fact that it's National Pickle Month should make them eat more pickles.

quote by Barney Frank
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Spicy Pickle

I wanna tell you about a place
That’s very special to me
It’s called The Spicy Pickle
They serve food so deliciously

There’s salads, soups & sandwiches
With flavors of such delight
You can go there for lunch
Or dinner t’wards the night

They have little crusty pizzas
With what fixins’ you desire
Oh yes, they serve the food
That folks never ever tire

But the very best to me is
The ‘build your own’ meal
So many things to choose from
What a delightful deal

I hope you too will enjoy one day
Or even in the night
The wonderful Spicy Pickle
Where the food is made just right!

poem by Marilyn Lott
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What I love is a peanut butter and pickle sandwich. I'll just have peanut butter and bananas, then peanut butter and pickles. Peanut butter and chocolate I don't recommend.

quote by Dianne Wiest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lilly-Willy-Woken

Bill Vining had a sorrel colt
Some two years old or more,
But the colt was wild as a mountain deer
And a bridle never wore;
And so one day,
Bill took his colt
named Lilly Willy Woken,
And whipp'd him till his stubborn will
And the whiplash both were broken!

Broke! Broke! Broken!
Your stubborn will is broken
You will dance no more on the sable floor,
O Lilly Willy Woken!

Bill Vining was a banker --
He had a bag of gold;
And not only uncurrent coin,
But customers he sold,
But while he went to break his colt
Young Lilly Willy Woken
His teller told, with his bag of gold
And thus the bank was broken.

Broke! Broke! Broken
Your master's bank is broken!
He will count no more his profits o'er
O Lilly Willy Woken!

Bill Vining was a lover --
He had a lady fair,
Who had said thro' life she'd be his wife
And his bag of gold would share;
But when she saw that all was lost,
Save Lilly Willy Woken,
She felt inclined to change her mind
And so his heart was broken.

Broke! Broke! Broken
Your master's heart is broken!
He will sing no more at his lady's door,
O Lilly Willy Woken!

Bill Vining was a mourner --
He had a host of woes,
And grave despair was pictured where
A smile did once repose.
And so he took the halter off
From Lilly Willy Woken,
And from a shelf he hung himself
And thus his neck was broken!

Broke! Broke! Broken
Your master's neck is broken!
And you see what came of a stubborn frame
O Lilly Willy Woken!

poem by Henry Clay Work
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Lilly

Lilly, laughing lady,
Does your smile disguise the tears inside?
Lilly, lonely lady,
Only silhouette your happy side.
You give yourself to men who take your love.
Then smile and watch them walk away...
Are you tired of giving lilly?
Are you really happy?
Lilly, laughing lady,
Are you satisfied to live a lie?
Lilly, lonely lady,
Is it in the stars for you to try?
Do you fulfill yourself with lies and dreams?
You seem contented with your life?
Does it only gild the lilly
Or does it make you happy?

song performed by by Hall & Oates
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lilly (Are You Happy)

Lilly, laughing lady,
does your smile disguise the tears inside?
Lilly, lonely lady,
only silhouette your happy side.
You give yourself to men who take your love.
Then smile and watch them walk away...
Are you tired of giving Lilly?
Are you really happy?
Lilly, laughing lady,
are you satisfied to live a lie?
Lilly, lonely lady,
is it in the stars for you to try?
Do you fulfill yourself with lies and dreams?
You seem contented with your life?
Does it only gild the lilly
or does it make you happy?

song performed by by Hall & Oates
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Frightening Conclusion

In a pickle sizzling because of recent risks.
And unable to face or come to grips with it,
For fear of other unsuspecting hits.
Can be a frightening conclusion,
For the one who pitches a fit.
This can be frightening to someone,
Unprepared for it even a little bit.

The one who smiles on the outside,
May hide inside their moping.
As they do their best to cope.
To make each day for them okay.

The one who smiles on the outside,
May hide inside their moping.
As they do their best,
Not to confess trials they face...
On a daily basis.

This is a frightening conclusion,
For someone unprepared for this!
This can be frightening for anyone,
In a pickle sizzling because of recent risks.

Frightening conclusion,
For someone unprepared for this!
This can be frightening for anyone,
In a pickle sizzling because of recent risks.

The one who smiles on the outside,
May hide inside their moping.
As they do their best to cope.
To make each day for them okay.

The one who smiles on the outside,
May hide inside their moping.
As they do their best,
Not to confess trials they face...
On a daily basis.

This is a frightening conclusion,
For someone unprepared for this!
This can be frightening for anyone,
In a pickle sizzling because of recent risks.

Frightening conclusion,
For someone unprepared for this!
This can be frightening for anyone,
In a pickle sizzling because of recent risks.

Frightening conclusion.
In a pickle sizzling because of recent risks.
Frightening conclusion,
For someone unprepared for this!
This is a frightening conclusion,
For someone unprepared for this!
This can be frightening for anyone,
In a pickle sizzling because of recent risks.

Frightening conclusion.
In a pickle sizzling because of recent risks.
Frightening conclusion,
For someone unprepared for this!
This is a frightening conclusion,
For someone unprepared for this!
This can be frightening for anyone,
In a pickle sizzling because of recent risks.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Supersize It (From Snl Appearance)

Why don't you drive to my heart
Can you take my order?
Look what you get
For just one more quarter

Just Supersize it!
Hold the Pickle!
And do it up big
When it comes to my heart
I be a hungry pig (snort snort)
C'mon and Supersize it!
Hold the Pickle!
I'm down on my knees
If you don't want all my love...
Next window please!
Next window please...
Supersize it!

song performed by by N Sync
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lilly

I called her tiger Lilly
As she favored clothes with stripes
But I did not back away in fear
when she flashed her pearly whites.

There’s a chapel on the campus
And we both so liked to sing
There was just one little problem
Lilly wore another’s ring.

She’d been six months separated
From her lawful wedded mate.
She’d suffered two miscarriages
love had started to abate.

It still of course was possible
That they might work it out
But I found myself falling
Every time she was about..

We started sharing moments
At the ballpark and the shore
As much as we were together
I found myself wanting more.

I told myself its over-
that her man’s not coming back.
She’s a pretty, gracious flower
and a tiger in the sack.

And then one day it ended
Her parents intervened
They forced them back together
We never had our farewell scene.

A year after we’d parted
There was a story in the news
Lilly died in a car accident
Her husband had been stewed.

So every year on that same date
The day I heard you’d died
I lay a Lilly on your grave
It’s from your other guy.

There have, of course, been lovers since
Remarkable women who
I’ve had the privilege to have loved
But none have been like you.

poem by John F. McCullagh
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I Wonder Where My Papa Is?

I wonder where my papa is,
Oh, where could he have gone,
I wonder why he does not come
And see his Lilly Long.
He would come and sit by me
When the fever burnt my brow,
I wonder where my papa is,
For he comes not near me now.

I hear no more the foot pace
In the hall by my door,
Where he would gently, gently tread
Upon the oaken floor.
His place is vacant by the hearth,
There stands his easy chair;
I hear no more his loving voice
Raising the evening prayer.

The last time I saw my papa dear
Was just five days ago,
He took me in his arms and said,
"You are getting better slow,
Thank God, my little Lilly pet
Will soon be well again,
And run about the house and play
With little Nettie Lane."

I wonder where my papa is,
Oh, where could he have gone,
It cannot be he has forgotten
His little Lilly Long.
No, he never would have left me
And mamma without aid;
I fear my papa has fallen
A victim of the "plague."

The mother listened to her child,
Her heart filled with pain
To hear her loved one mourn for him
Who would never come again.
Tears were falling from her eyes,
From her bossom heaved a sigh;
Little Lilly asked in wonder,
"Mamma dear, what makes you cry?"

"Dearest Lilly must I tell you
That your papa is no more,
That he cannot come and see you
And caress you as of yore.
He has gone to live with Jesus,
In the heavenly home above,
Where are dwelling the blessed
In God's everlasting love."

Lilly listened to her mother,
She uttered not a sound,
O'er her little pale cheeks softly
Tears began to trinkle down;
At last she sweetly murmured,
"Mamma dear, you and I
Must live so we can meet papa
In Heaven, by and by."

"Yes, my child," the mother answered,
"Your words are very true,
While we live on earth we should keep
The heavenly land in view;
Then bright on earth will be our future,
Bright as a shining star;
We will live in love together,
Till we reach that home afar."

poem by Julia A Moore
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Fate Life Taste Tickle

fate is ever pleasant or fickle
chance casts changes fortunes pickle

grim reaper fells life tickle
with single sweep of well timed sickle

poem by Terence George Craddock
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What Should You Do When....?

What should you do when
you come across a snake?
I should make sure that
there's a few risks to take.

What would you do when
you get stuck in a pickle?
I would eat around it,
and later eat a popsicle.

What can you do when
you like to draw too much?
I can see my future as an
artist and such and such.

What have you done when
you have made up your mind?
I have made an important
decision in my life.

What will you do when
you see that this is odd?
I will see that my name
is clearly 'in a pod.'

What should you do when
you know what to do?
I should say 'Goodbye, '
because now, I'm through!

poem by Rebecca Ryan
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Down the Sweet Shop

The little corner shop
full of special treats
Chocolate, bottles of Pop,
and jars and jars of sweets.
With pocket money in hand
given to me by my Dad
sometimes a little bit extra
if he heard I'd been a good lad.
I really loved that little shop
it was every young boys dream
you could get everything you'd want
Football Cards, Toys, and Ice-Cream.
My dad used the shop as well
he'd pop in to buy his fags
and Mum did her weekly shop
she'd get me to help her with the bags.
Then along came the big supermarket
the little shop began to lose it's trade
so sadly it had to close it's doors
an end of an era again I'm afraid.
But I'll always remember the little shop
stood there at the bottom of our lane
yes it may have only been small
but it had more style than any supermarket chain!

poem by Kevin Halls
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Hunger is the best pickle.

quote by Benjamin Franklin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blood Pressure

Earlier days..
Grand-ma immixed
Chilli, mustard, turmeric, oil
Salt hyped in high pickle-jar
Wherein neck-level baby mangoes cuddling..
Babies soon wept under heavy pressure
Pacified but by a shared gallery of kith and kin
Mother pickled the same way, her time
Hyped salt pressured in
Smaller family couldn't be salty larger
High saline, frightening viscosity
Jar and mother haemorrhaged
Her children so tensed and bottled up often
Hypertensely seeking Physician's recipe
For a nonhaemorrhagic jar

poem by Indira Renganathan
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The Mare's Nest

Jane Austen Beecher Stowe de Rouse
Was good beyond all earthly need;
But, on the other hand, her spouse
Was very, very bad indeed.
He smoked cigars, called churches slow,
And raced -- but this she did not know.

For Belial Machiavelli kept
The little fact a secret, and,
Though o'er his minor sins she wept,
Jane Austen did not understand
That Lilly -- thirteen-two and bay
Absorbed one-half her husband's pay.

She was so good, she made hime worse;
(Some women are like this, I think;)
He taught her parrot how to curse,
Her Assam monkey how to drink.
He vexed her righteous soul until
She went up, and he went down hill.

Then came the crisis, strange to say,
Which turned a good wife to a better.
A telegraphic peon, one day,
Brought her -- now, had it been a letter
For Belial Machiavelli, I
Know Jane would just have let it lie.

But 'twas a telegram instead,
Marked "urgent," and her duty plain
To open it. Jane Austen read:
"Your Lilly's got a cough again.
Can't understand why she is kept
At your expense." Jane Austen wept.

It was a misdirected wire.
Her husband was at Shaitanpore.
She spread her anger, hot as fire,
Through six thin foreign sheets or more.
Sent off that letter, wrote another
To her solicitor -- and mother.

Then Belial Machiavelli saw
Her error and, I trust, his own,
Wired to the minion of the Law,
And traveled wifeward -- not alone.
For Lilly -- thirteen-two and bay --
Came in a horse-box all the way.

There was a scene -- a weep or two --
With many kisses. Austen Jane
Rode Lilly all the season through,
And never opened wires again.
She races now with Belial. This
Is very sad, but so it is.

poem by Rudyard Kipling
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The Celebes

DEAR islands of the Orient,
Where Nature's first of love was spent;
Sweet hill-tops of the summered land
Where gods and men went hand in hand
In golden days of sinless earth!
Woe rack the womb of time, that bore
The primal evil to its birth!
It came; the gods were seen no more:
The fields made sacred by their feet,
The flowers they loved, grown all too sweet,
The streams their bright forms mirrored,
The fragrant banks that made their bed,
The human hearts round which they wove
Their threads of superhuman love—
These were too dear and desolate
To sink to fallen man's estate;
The gods who loved them loosed the seas,
Struck free the barriers of the deep,
That rolled in one careering sweep
And filled the land, as 'twere a grave,
And left no beauteous remnant, save
Those hill-tops called the Celebes.

poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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