I ended up writing this for another project I’m involved in, and I thought you might enjoy it, too. Welcome to Darlena’s nursery rhyme remix.
In the great green room, down by the bay, I spied a hammer, head, shoulders, knees and toes. Mama called the doctor because the shin bone’s connected to the ankle bone, and that shit doesn’t even make sense.
Say, say, oh playmate, how does your garden grow? One little, two little, three little Indians…wait, can we even read this one these days? Raise your hand if you’re not an ignorant dickhead!
Mary had a little lamb but little Bo Peep lost her sheep, and the damn kittens got no pie (I never thought that was fair, personally.) Someone should make them a patty cake. Not I, said the rat. Three four, shut the door on the butcher, the baker and the candlestick maker and when the farmer leaves the dell, make sure he takes that raving wife of his with the carving knife. The mice are all getting nervous.
There was a farmer had a dog, but when Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard, she realized she lived in a shoe and should try to feed the kids first.
“Maybe if she got a damn job instead of skipping to my lou, she could move out of the shoe. Can’t she even keep house if she’s home all day? The mice have taken over that damn clock. BOOTSTRAPS.” (Shut up, Uncle Bill. Go back to Facebook. The right answer, kids, is maybe the government should get her a shoe in a more thriving area and help her feed her kids so she has the time to attempt to better her life.)
“Well, Jack jumped over a candle stick and climbed a beanstalk, and built a house with his bare hands.” (Uncle Bill, seriously, Facebook is where we put the dumb these days. Jack is a white, straight male. It’s great he did those things, it really is. But he started life in a position where he was able to. Can we move on to animal nursery rhymes, please?)
“Not yet, not yet. There are white men who don’t do a damn thing either. Like the old man who came rolling home. Who does that?” (I don’t know. Just be thankful you don’t suffer from alcoholism, okay?)
Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet, while her friend Goldilocks broke into a stranger’s house where she ate and broke all their shit. I had a friend who did that once. He got arrested, though.
One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish, left foot, right foot, left foot, right. Unless someone cares a whole awful lot, that unnamed character will never eat green eggs and ham.
Oh, the places you’ll go!
How about this?
GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP.
(A mish mash of our bedtime routine each night.)
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