Who liked nothing more than a Rosti,
So much potatoe she ate,
On piled her weight,
And now she looks like a tree.
There once was a swiss lady called Valarie,
There was a swiss man called Martin,
Who was continously a'farting.
Every night he would eat,
Plenty of swiss cheese and meat,
And his wife would say put a cork in.
In Winterthur people complained
when a Texan once proudly detrained.
He got hopelessly lost,
bought a map at great cost,
and determined he must be in Seen.
[Seen (rhymes with plane) is a suburb of Winterthur]
Ma-in-law wanted to gimme a plate
Which was as ugly as hate
"No, thanks, we've lots of Messer!"
Hubby said, "No, Tell her, Tell her!"*
How knife became plate is fate.
*(mistook "Teller" for "tell her!")
Despite rumours to the contrary, I did NOT threaten my mother-in-law with knives when she wanted to palm off her plate.
To call Switzerland 'home' is devine.
There are plenty of places to dine,
with cuisines of all sorts —
all your favorites, of course
(the cheeses and röschti are mine).
The Klee presents a dog turd
It certainly is an odd world
inflatable crap
gave the orphanage a whack
The state of art in Bern....
Ok, not perfect, but I'm thinking ......
(look at swiss politcs/news)
So, Is that a plane or a bird
or something just slightly absurd
like pigs on the wing
as Floyd used to sing?
No, only a renegade turd !
(Rats!, edot just beat me to it)
But yours was quite funny!
Simply sublime Steve. You win.
A man from the top of Zermatt,
Once married a British ex-pat,
But his wife couldn't climb,
So he left her behind,
Now he sits home alone with his cat.
After eating a pan of Fondue
An expat was unable to poo
In spite of much Kirsch
And plenty of beers
He still sits and strains on the loo
There once was a yod'ler called Matt
Who busked for coins thrown to his hat
the income was low
'cause he sounded so
like a banshee that's beating a cat.
The bank that they call UBS
has got itself into a mess
this ex-customer, who
it once treated like poo
now certainly couldn't care less.
There was a young man from Lugano,
Who's name was Luciano,
He didn't didn't like hair,
And missed while shaving "down there"
And now he singles like a Soprano
Once an Asian lassie cooked curry
Pounded and fried in a hurry
"What's that smell?"
Neighbours sniffed hell;
Lassie the curry did bury.
Sitting on a crowded train
His MP3 was pumpin'
The ol' biddy nearby
With a disapproving eye
Stood up and gave him a thumpin'
I'm on my knees now ready to pray,
'coz Zurich Ikea I go to today.
I hope it's not full,
Of people from Hull,.
Who speak in a very strange way.
'Roti jala' lacy pancake,
My culinary rep's at stake;
to be eaten with chicken curry.
Instead Other Half in a hurry
ate it with Apfelmus I didn't make.
There was a young lady from Bern,
Whose avatar's an apple and worm;
She has a red dot,
And she's lost the plot,
How a lovely round green one to earn!!
Mettmestetten is where I do sit,
Surrounded by farmland and sh1t,
To the farmer I said,
Knock it off for today,
The smell is offending this Brit.
For his crops he needs this manure,
So his produce will taste good for sure,
But by goodness my man,
This stuff from the 'pan',
Is chucking so it must be pure.
Current events, anyone?
Here's an offering:
There once was a banker so sad
His assets had vanished: too bad!
If he’d run with the cash
Before the great crash
He’d still be a jolly old cad
A candidate named B Obama
With mojo, charisma and drama
Did go head-to-head
With a social retread
Emerging as the cat’s pyjama
A running mate sweet as can be
So well-versed in geography
Twixt two hostile nations
She saw complications
In her little patch of the sea
An old fogy, Washington bound
Was challenged when it came to sound
When asked ‘bout Viagra
And he heard “Niagara”
He said “it’s the best place in town!”