Dodgy poetry

Whilst searching for my Blue Peter badge last night, still un-found which is hardly surprising, I happened across some decidedly dodgy poetry. By way of explanation, I once worked soul destroying weekends collecting eggs in a battery farm. The chickens were the brightest creatures there. As the sole member of the workforce with the requisite number of fingers and toes for decimal calculations, I recorded the egg production rates on little slips. To keep myself amused, I doodled on the back of them.

Here's a couple of these recently found archives...

Wherever I go, so does me go.
I hope you never meet my alter-ego.

and,

Dog chews Dog

It's dog eats dog, and Jane eats Peter,
Pat just sits where Peter fell.
Pat the dog has tasted Peter,
Loves his flavour, loves his smell.
But poor old Pat has none of Peter,
Hungry Jane eats Pat as well.

Probably why I don't write songs very often! Hopefully I won't find anymore when I resume the Blue Peter badge search...