...by Henry Gibson
Selected Poetry From His Two Albums
The Cobra
The cobra always wears a smile
As he creeps across the ground
He grins like he's up in the clouds
I think that he turns on.
Dogs Are Better Than Ants
Dogs are better than ants
Because you don't have to bend so far to pet them
In addition, they are sturdy old muzzlers
Who fetch us our slippers, papers, and twig chunks
Twig chunks
But most of all, they stay out of jelly jars and
Never go squish if you happen to step on them.
(I call that last poem my "platform poem"
because it always promises more than it delivers;
but I wrote it out of love.)
Why I Like The Lizard
I like the lizard because
He's always so interested in the welfare of others.
Well, take for example the fly,
Which he does. Slurrrrrrppppp.....
Patacake
Patacake, patacake, baker's man
Bake me a friend.
The Eyelash
The eyelash is a friend to man.
It lives to serve the eye.
It fights the dirt and dust and grime,
And keeps the eyeball dry.
Flick, flick. Flick, flick.
It's busy as a bee.
Flick, flick. Flick, flick.
It's helpin' you and me.
("That was an original folk song.
Which I wrote originally for my folks." H. Gibson)
Animal Trio
The bullfrog is my pal true blue.
He don't smoke or drink or chew.
His only hang-up is he sniffs glue.
If I was a bullfrog I would too.
I just found out what the aardvark does
When he's feeling kinda blue and wants to get a little buzz.
He sneaks off down to the edge of the beach
And turns himself on by sniffin' bleach.
The hedgehog is a groovy friend.
When he dresses like a hippy he's the livin' end.
He's only got one hang-up when he's at the logs.
He turns himself on smokin' dental floss.
Marshall McLuhan,
What are yuh doin'?
How I Saved A Baby Rhino from Slippin' In The Quicksand,
Whilst In Search Of My Fountain Pen,
Last Summer Along The Amazon River
With great difficulty.
Flowers
(Flowers have always been the motivating force of my life)
They are not all flower children,
All those that use the name.
A lot are just imposters,
Playin' at the game.
Beware (beware),
Beware (beware)
Of artificial flowers,
They may be nice to look at,
But they're dead and can not grow.
Beware (beware),
Beware (beware)
Of artificial flowers.
They're plastic up on top,
And they're wire down below.
The real flower children
Are filled with love.
Phonies, they just scoff at love -
Their hearts are made of wood.
Beware (beware),
Beware (beware)
Of artificial flowers,
They may be nice to look at,
But they're dead and can not grow.
Beware (beware),
Beware (beware)
Of artificial flowers.
They're plastic up on top,
And they're wire down below.
True blue flower children
Do not act strange or queer.
They know the world has got to change,
And it must start right here.
Beware (beware),
Beware (beware)
Of artificial flowers,
They may be nice to look at,
But they're dead and can not grow.
Beware (beware),
Beware (beware)
Of artificial flowers.
They're plastic up on top,
And they're wire down below.
The Thumbnail
Did you ever stop to figure
Why the thumbnail is so hard?
Well it hasn't any choice
With all that skin to guard.
It may look fat and pudgy
But it's heart is good and true.
It's prettier than a toenail
And easier to chew.
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