Rhyme Stew

Rhyme Stew

Roald Dahl

Language: English

Pages: 96

ISBN: 0141346671

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

A collection of irreverant rhymes featuring characters from fairy tales, fables and nursery rhymes - as you've never seen them before! From the tortoise and the hare and Hansel and Gretel to Ali Baba and Aladdin, these traditional stories will never seem the same again once you have had a taste of Roald Dahl's hilarious verse and Quentin Blake's suitably lively illustrations. An inventive collection for older children and adults alike, Rhyme Stew bubbles over with Roald Dahl's extraordinary humour and imagination.

James and the Giant Peach

Uncle and His Detective

The Mystery of the Missing Man (The Five Find-Outers, Book 13)

Pat the Bunny: May I Help You? (Little Golden Book)

Three Classic Franklin Stories: Franklin's New Friend, Franklin's Bad Day, and Franklin Has a Sleepover



















Not even bright-eyed Mister Hare, That I’ve got anything down there. I’ll wave my legs and off I’ll go And Mister Hare will never know What’s giving me this wondrous power To run at sixty miles an hour. Oh Rat, I know you’ll do it right – The little wheels just out of sight, The engine tucked away as well, All hidden underneath my shell!” The Rat was stunned. He stretched his eyes, He stood and shouted with surprise, “By gum, I never would have guessed An ancient bird like you

She said, “So you can get it right I’ll have to hold you very tight.” She held me here, she held me there, By gum, she held me everywhere. She kindly taught me, after that, To wrestle with her on the mat. Oh! gosh, the things she taught to me, Our gym-instructress, Miss McPhee! The Emperor’s New Clothes The Royal Tailor, Mister Ho, Had premises on Savile Row, And thence the King would make his way At least a dozen times a day. His passion was for gorgeous suits And sumptuous

going to eat us all!” “Don’t be a twit,” the lady said, and flashed a gorgeous smile. “He’s harmless. He’s my little pet, my lovely crocodile.” Hot and Cold A woman who my mother knows Came in and took off all her clothes. Said I, not being very old, “By golly gosh, you must be cold!” “No, no!” she cried. “Indeed I’m not! I’m feeling devilishly hot!” Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves A very decent Arab sport Called Ali Baba (Al for short) Was standing, so’s to be polite,

Kung Egg Nog, Into an ugly jumping frog. He’d have the Emperor O No Go Incinerated nice and slow, And as for Mister How U Pong Who always beat him at mah-jong, He’d see that Mister How U paid In every single game they played. And now this Scottish-Chinese knave Moved softly through the murky cave. Over the pearls and gold he stepped And on towards the lamp he crept, And just as he reached out a hand To grab it quickly off its stand A ghoulish snarling ghastly sound Came up from

somewhere underground, Then slimy tendrils tugged his coat And tried to fasten round his throat. An icy wind swept through the cave, Then darkness darker than the grave, And now a voice was heard to shout, “Get out, you filthy thief, get out! No half-Chinese half-Scottish scamp Is going to steal this magic lamp!” Jock’s liver and his gizzards froze, Two bony fingers tweaked his nose. He screamed, he ran with all his power And did not stop for half an hour. “Although I want that

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