Category Archives: Compositions Inspired by Ogden Nash

Short rhymes in English following the steps of the great humorist Ogden Nash.

Who was Ogden Nash?
Frederic Ogden Nash (August 19, 1902 – May 19, 1971) was an American poet well known for his light verse, of which he wrote over 500 pieces. With his unconventional rhyming schemes, he was declared the country’s best-known producer of humorous poetry.


I wish I knew
Why the deuce is a U,
Followed by an S,
Called United States–
When for all intents and purp’ses,
A tini mini u, preceding a wiggly wriggly s,
As we were taught way back, in kindergarten class,
Is not just handfuls of yous, but earthfuls of us.


The tragedy for most of us is that
Eventually we become old and fat.

Based on Ogden Nash:
The trouble with a kitten is that
Eventually it becomes a cat.


Slender fingers,
piano reeds,
should well satisfy –
all one’s needs.
It’s strange instead
to see them gasping,
with fingers thick,
as they keep WhatSapsping.


A crow I’m told’s a smart lil’ creecha

Which can master, all thachew teecha

Except for singing

For by its upbringing

A crow is supposed to caw excreecha.


Gastric Pains

Newspapers are known for their crazy newz
Along with garbage and other refewz
Consuming newspapers for breakfests
Invariably causes tummy upfests
But many there are who
Eat more than twenty two
Newspapers every aawa
And suffer ailments seveawa
Their reasons I don’t wish to know I fears
It’s best that I mind my own affears
But I do believe that this wretched earth
Without newspapers will dance in mirth.


There was a Zimbabw’an with a zebra
Which he wailed didn’t know alzeebra
A subject he’d been taught
But with age he forgot
And couldn’t teach alzeebra to h’z zebra.

Thalia Christidou

Thalia, Thalia, Thalia,
Thalia Christidou!
Of all the girls that came from Greece,
The prettiest piece was yeou!
Thalia, Thalia, Thalia,
Thalia Christidou!
Your slanted eyes and your lovely smile
Had made me yearn for yeou!
Thalia, Thalia, Thalia,
Thalia Christidou!
Of Venus you must have reminded me
And lovelorn made me yeou!
Thalia, Thalia, Thalia,
Thalia Christidou!
You played the piano as no one could
But I couldn’t dance with yeou!
Thalia, Thalia, Thalia,
Thalia Christidou!
From Greece you’d arrived I did know that
But whither vanished yeou?
Thalia, Thalia, Thalia,
Thalia Christidou!
You must be as old as I am now
Which makes me sigh for yeou!
Thalia, Thalia, Thalia,
Thalia Christidou!
A shrivelled up granny you may have turned
But I’m still in love with yeou!


There was this old man stranded in an island
Who wanted to disappear inside his iPand
Which could hide, he said, all that he possessed
Except himself which made him feel offendessed
Lamented the old man with his iPand in the island.

Ogdenfully Mough

If, in a burner, I had been fried,
Chances are high that I would have died.
And if outside a burner, I happen to be dead,
They’ll fry me in the burner still, I constantly dread.
What confuses me enormously though –
Is which of these happenings, will bring happiness mough.


Owls are known to screech and they can also hoot
But what’s far more important’s, they’re awfully cuoot.
I understand further that they’re supposed to be wise
Being equipped with an inner light for darknesses to surmise.
An owl had once unfortunately though, in broad and sunny daylight,
Arrived by mistake in my home, where it found no deelight.
Light brown feathers it had worn and could’ve been young or old,
And though I wished to pat its back, I wasn’t exactly bold.
It crouched in a corner — sightless, sad and scared,
In wilderness it’d landed, for all it could’ve cared.
It didn’t screech all through the day, nor did it hoot,
And it remained seated where it sat, infinitely cuoot.
Till the sun had managed to set and arrived a dusky shade,
When it began to stir a little and soon its wings it spreade.
Long were those wings and loud was its screech
As it flew from room to room and made me lose my spreech.
A frightened owl and a frightened mee
From each other as we tried to flee,
Hunter we each thought, the other was,
Chasing its prey, by jungle laws,
Till against a glass pane alas, the owl had finally crashed,
Which grumbled a little as expected, but dutifully crackshed,
Creating a hole through which the owl then speedily escaped,
As I shivered under a table alone and stupidly at it gayscaped.
I know not where it went to then, to screech or to hoot,
But wherever it may be now, it must be awfully cuoot.

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