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Robert the joke.

In the early morning when Robert awoke The first thing he did was tell a new joke. He was happy and healthy and fit as a fiddle, But always and ever he had an old riddle. He'd ask his father and then ask his mother One dumb riddle after another.

"Why did the chicken cross the road?

To get to the other side!" he crowed.

"Why didn't the lemon cross the road?

Because it was yellow--you should have knowed.

What's black and white and green all over?

A zebra in a pile of clover!

What do you think goes 'snap, crackle, squeak?'

Mice Krispies," he said, his tongue in his cheek.

"What do you call six ducks in a crate?

A box full of quackers--isn't that great?

What kind of socks do elephants wear?

Stretch socks," he said. "Will you get me a pair?

King Midas sits on gold, that's true;

Who sits on Silver? The Lone Ranger, that's who."

And on and on it would go through the day.

Till everyone wished he would just go away.

"Why did the monster wear tennies?" he'd snigger.

"'Cause nineies were small and elevenies were bigger.

Are bananas lonely? You haven't a hunch?

No, 'cause bananas will always be in a bunch.

Is a worm in your apple the very worst thing?

Half a worm in your apple will not make you sing.

What did one carrot say to the other?

Nothing, 'cause carrots can't talk." Oh, brother!

"Why is it that a baseball stadium's cool?

There's a fan in each seat, as a general rule.

Name the four seasons," he'd say with a crack."

"Football, basketball, baseball, and track."

His family was sick to death of his jokin".

He went on and on like a record unbroken.

"I'm so tired of riddles," his big brother said. And his sister complained,

"They're hurting my head."

"His jokes are so bad," said Father to Mother.

"But how can we stop him?" they asked one another.

"I know," his brother said with a shout.

"Let's give him a riddle he can't figure out.

Let's really think hard and think of a winner.

It will have to be good; he's not a beginner.

He'll spend all his time just working it out And give us some peace, without any doubt."

"But what will we ask him?" poor Mother cried.

"I think I have the answer," their father replied.

"There is a question asked down through the ages And pondered by idiots, wise men, and sages.

Everyone questions and for an answer they beg:

Which came first, the chicken or the egg?" The family agreed it was a perfect riddle, For it had no beginning, no ending, or middle. So Father asked Robert, who just shook his head. "That is so easy. It was the chicken," he said. Father said, "Oh, did it hatch from a stone? Or all of a sudden, was it just there alone?" "Oh," said Robert, "the egg must have been first." "What laid the egg?" asked Father, well versed. "Oh," said Robert, "I see what you mean. I'll think for a while--my mind is so keen." He thought and he thought, but no answer appeared. He became silent and different and really quite weird. No riddles he asked them and no jokes he told. His family agreed he was too good to scold. Two weeks passed by with no riddles at all; Then Robert quit riddles and took up baseball.
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Article Details
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Author:Shiver, Joyce
Publication:Children's Digest
Geographic Code:1USA
Date:Jul 1, 2007
Previous Article:State your knowledge.
Next Article:Page of poetry.

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