by Jerome Betts

“Universities must act to eradicate discrimination
against working-class students, including the
mockery of regional accents, equality
campaigners have said.”
—The Guardian

Those whose forbears cried “Yoicks!”
Look down on the oiks
Who pronounce “bikes” as “boikes”?

They deem even a don
As more goose than swan
If a “one” comes out “wan”?

Although not Dick Van Dyke
Let us speak as we like
Scouse, Brummie or Tyke.

To let student life be
Language barrier free
Shed the yoke of RP

And from Bucks, Hants and Wilts
To the land of the kilts,
Welcome burrs, brogues and lilts!

by Ruth S. Baker

“Five distinct types of dog existed by end of last ice age, study finds”
—The Guardian

At the end of the Ice Age there were
Five clearly distinct kinds of cur:
The noisy, the bouncy,
The smelly, the pouncy,
And those who shed forests of fur.

by Mike Mesterton-Gibbons

We know the pratie’s what the Irish eat.
Of eighteen forty-seven they despond:
No praties meant a famine so complete,
They needed help from way across the Pond.
Good-hearted Choctaw in a distant land
Eked out their cash to help the Irish feed.
Today their gift is valued at five grand …
Both Navajo and Hopi now have need.
“You won’t get by alone,” the Irish said.
“And we recall we’re in your people’s debt:
Long years ago you sent us cash for bread.
One million’s the thanks, today, you get.
And though a gift is not a loan, all told,
Now we’ve repaid our debt two-hundredfold!”

by Ruth S. Baker

“Ecotricity founder to grow diamonds ‘made entirely from the sky'”
—The Guardian

They’re mining the sky now in Stroud
Which should make the ecologists proud:
Stuff mined from the earth
Cannot equal in worth
These squeezings of carbon and cloud.

by Eddie Aderne

“The word Eigengrau means own grey, or intrinsic grey, or brain grey.
It is what you see when you close your eyes.”
—Patricia Lockwood, reviewing a collection of essays on Nabokov
in the London Review of Books

O Eigengrau, O Eigengrau:
You are the word I need for now!
I look upon the news, and ouch!
I feel the need to sigh and grouch;
But close my eyelids all the way,
I see instead intrinsic grey,
My own, my brain’s, true status quo:
O Eigengrau, how grau you grow!

by Nicole Caruso Garcia

Jiggery-Pokery
Judge Coney Barrett
Scooted to SCOTUS on
GOP praise.

P-grabber tapped her as
Six-to-three-scale-tipper,
Poised to flip Roe: back to
Coat hanger days.

by Julia Griffin

“Do all dogs go to heaven? Pet owners increasingly think so, says study”
—The Guardian

I’m hoping, in my afterlife, for miles of breezy heath,
Deer-droppings, ponds, and garbage bins, with mammoth bones beneath;
Endorsing as I do the late Will Rogers’ testament:
If dogs don’t go to Heaven, then I want to go where they went.

by Nora Jay

As I was coming through the gloaming,
I met a voter from Wyoming.
“My vote,” he said, and winked one cornea,
“Counts more than three from California.”

by Katherine Barrett Swett

(Sung to the tune of “There’s No Business like Show Business”)

There’s no business like Joe Business
Like no business I know.
Everything that he will be repealing
(At least the stuff that Congress will allow)
I can’t help the happy feeling
That Trump is stealing his final bow.

by Bruce Bennett

No ghouls this year, or little witches,
or loud delinquent sons-of-bitches.
That suits us fine, although we say
what scares us is Election Day.

by Bob McKenty

On the vigil of All Hallows, I was sitting, sipping Gallo’s
While awaiting trick-or-treaters’ bold assaults from six to nine,
When I dozed off; started snoring.
Then awoke to find it pouring,
Pouring buckets. What good luck! It’s
gonna make the evening fine.
(All that candy will be mine!)

by Chris O’Carroll

Pat Robertson says God says Trump will win.
I doubt that doubting him would be a sin.
Pat’s hawked some suspect inside dope before.
Whatever voice is telling him the score
Is maybe not divine. Don’t take my word,
Ask President Mitt Romney what Pat heard.

by Katherine Barrett Swett

“Jeffrey Toobin suspended by The New Yorker and is temporarily
stepping away from CNN following report he exposed himself on Zoom”
—CBS News

The behavior and coverage are over the top.
Why didn’t his colleagues just tell him to stop?

by Iris Herriot

“Peru opens Machu Picchu ruins for one tourist
Japanese tourist waited almost seven months to enter Inca citadel
while trapped in country during coronavirus pandemic”
—The Guardian

Makachu Pikachu,
Japanese visitor
Trapped by Corona for
Months in Peru

Tours now a citadel
Unprecedentedly
Touristless. I call that
Worth it, don’t you?

by James Higgins

(Sung to the tune of 1909’s “My Pony Boy.”)

ConeyGirl.
ConeyGirl.
Drumpf adores you,
don’ he, girl!
Take some heat,
then a seat
on our highest court.
Plan, in sum…?
Just keep mum:
you’ll be soon confirm’d.
Antonin-Clarence kin! (Bader Gin-…? No-o-o-o!)
O ConeyGirl!

ConeyGirl.
ConeyGirl.
Now you’re Mitch’s
crony, girl.
Precedents…?
Founders’ bents
trump ’em — so you’ll rule.
Wade v Roe…?
One must go,
as must ACA.
Lexual. Textual. (Sexual…? Who-o-oa!)
O ConeyGirl.

ConeyGirl.
ConeyGirl.
Dems feel you’re a phony, girl.
Immigrants
stand no chance.
Long gun bearers thrive.
Peopl’of Praise
damn the gays.
Where do you come down…?
COVID slays. World’s malaise. (End of Days…? Doh!!)
O ConeyGirl.