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THE JAMBOREE JIMBLE

We’re limbering up for the Jamboree Jimble

There’s ‘Russian’, and ‘Tallboy’, and old Mr. Kimble

We shake like Mad Hatters - jump this way and that

Then offer out marmalade - spread on straw hat

We’re shaving our legs for the Jamboree Jimble

There’s a shiny green Hass that contains around ten

A chicken-wire re-enactment of “The Emperor of Jutland”

By ‘The bloated Malonkies’ - who you poke with a pin

We’re putting on makeup

And shiny red bonnets

The swans are all healthy

And we’ve plenty of Myrrh

This year Russian has made life-size cadavers

That he’ll fire from a cannon

And they’ll explode in mid-air

We’ll offer up Tony - the half-hidden pony

(He’s only half-hidden - but he smells very nice)

To the god of the Jimble

Who’s prone to such vices

As half-hidden ponies

And Eyotts in ice

Sminnett Sminnett Thrin-pot was last year’s Jimble master

(He’s recently been arrested for having thin thighs)

He fell from the heavens in a spherical pasta

And spattered on the ground

Amongst appreciative sighs

All makes of children are most welcome at the Jimble

There’s plenty of fruit bats hidden under Uncle Jonah’s coat

Play ‘Release the Dinosaur’

And for those who aren’t quite sure

The finale is a ride on the giant farting goat

When exactly’s the Jimble?

Anytime next Tuesday

A week in advance and a month in arrears

The people walk backwards and you’ll get there much faster

If you lengthen your legs with a couple of spears.

Don’t forget your helmets

And your Rollerscopic puss-flower

Your incandescent double

And your musty bag of hair

We’ll beat each other senseless

Then roll around with laughter

And later on we’ll all assist to resurrect the Major