Some friends were inspired by the classic Edward Lear poem The Owl and the Pussycat to throw a theme party. I made this little picture for the invitation. It was fun.
Here’s the whole poem:
The Owl and the Pussycat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
Wrapped up in a five pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
“O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are, you are, you are,
What a beautiful Pussy you are.”
Pussy said to the Owl “You elegant fowl,
How charmingly sweet you sing.
O let us be married, too long we have tarried;
But what shall we do for a ring?”
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the Bong-tree grows,
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood
With a ring at the end of his nose, his nose, his nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.
“Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling your ring?”
Said the Piggy, “I will”
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon.
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand.
They danced by the light of the moon, the moon, the moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.
Some of the nonsense language of the poem reminds me of A Clockwork Orange and Bonnie Rarker’s classic…
This is the story of Rindercella and her sugly isters.
Rindercella and her sugly isters lived in a marge lansion. Rindercella
worked very hard frubbing sloors, emptying poss pits, and shivelling
shot.
At the end of the day, she was knucking fackered.
The sugly isters were right bugly astards. One was called Mary Hinge,
and the other was called Betty Swallocks; they were really forrible
huckers;they had fetty sweet and fetty swannies. The sugly isters had
tickets to go to the ball, but the cotton runts would not let
Rindercella go.
Suddenly there was a bucking fang, and her gairy fodmother appeared.
Her name was Shairy Hithole and she was a light rucking fesbian. She
turned a pumpkin and six mite wice into a hucking cuge farriage with
six dandy ronkeys who had buge hollocks and dig bicks
The gairy fodmother told Rindercella to be back by dimnlight otherwise,
there would be a cucking falamity.
At the ball, Rindercella was dancing with the prandsome hince when
suddenly the clock struck twelve. “Mist all chucking frighty!!!” said
Rindercella, and she ran out tripping barse over ollocks, so dropping
her slass glipper.
The very next day the prandsome hince knocked on Rindercella’s door and
the sugly isters let him in. Suddenly, Betty Swallocks lifted her leg
and let off a fig bart. “Who’s fust jarted??” asked
the prandsome hince.
“Blame that fugly ucker over there!!” said Mary Hinge. When the
stinking brown cloud had lifted, he tried the slass glipper on both the
sugly isters without success and their feet stucking funk.
Betty Swallocks was ducking fisgusted and gave the prandsome hince a
knack in the kickers. This was not difficult as he had bucking fuge
halls and a hig bard on.
He tried the slass glipper on Rindercella and it fitted pucking
ferfectly.
Rindercella and the prandsome hince were married. The pransome hince
lived his life in lucking fuxury, and Rindercella lived hers with a
follen swanny.
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