The smear on the footpath The blot on the floor The stain on the table The scratch on the door The smudge on the ceiling The splotch on the chair: The marks that remind me My true love was there. by Michael Leunig
I'm a huge fan of the fan And when I'm feeling hot I have a fan called Stan I turn him on a lot. I lie there on the bed Stan sits upon a stool He slowly turns his head And everything is cool. I love to sleep with Stan And feel him by my side Stan's the lovely man Who keeps me satisfied. by Michael Leunig
Where the hoon sucks, there suck I; In an Irish pub I lie; There I couch as bowels do cry. Off the handle I do fly In the summer hot and dry. Merry, merry I shall be; Head butt if you look at me. by Michael Leunig
As I lay sleeping The graffiti boy came creeping; Creeping through the dark To make a boring mark That made no sense Upon the paling fence. I can recall When old Jack Frost would call As I lay curled; He painted half the world In sparkling white; And always got it right. by Michael Leunig
I had a strange and happy thought; It was my own; But oh, its time was all too short And it has flown. Into a world that's all at sea; No place to land, Happy thought come back to me And hold my hand. by Michael Leunig
I went to Mars on a rocket ship
To look for signs of life.
I found a woman there.
She became my wife.
We had some little babies.
They were so unique;
Neither Earthling nor Martian
Did they speak.
Yet they sang, they played,
We slept peacefully together.
Of a planet up above
Where there is new life
And there is love.