The Revolting Entry Showcase

Get some inspiration from some of the most revolting and phizz-whizzing rhymes. Lots of gloopy and poopy poetry!

Name: Caitlin McCloskey

Age: 5

MR TWIT HAS ZITS, NITS AND SMELLY ARMPITS
HE SPITS WHEN HE TALKS
FARTS WHEN HE WALKS
HE JUST OVERALL STINKS

Name: Seren Ayre

Age: 8

Miss Trunchbull, that big old grump,
She'd love to give Matilda a big, nasty, thump,
Her feet are as smelly as a skunk,
And she eats her cake with one big gulp,
She's as ugly as a wicked step sister,
Her toes so lumpy like a blister,
The Trunchbull as sneaky as a slug,
If she's cross she has a veiny, red, mug,
Her voice it is deep and vile,
Like the enormous crocodile,
If you hear the Trunchbull coming,
Your legs they had better be running!

Name: Gabriel Schofield

Age: 7

The BFG is humongously tall,
so I don't think that his bogies are small.
If he gets a cold, then you'd better run
Cos if he sneezes on you it would not be fun!
You'd be covered in snot from your head to your toes,
with green gunky bogies that shot out of his nose.
You'd be icky and yucky and swimming in goo,
But it could be worse, it could be BFG poo!!!

Name: Owen Wildsmith

Age: 9

There was a man called Twit,
Who smelt like arm pit,
He looked like he needed a shave,
from his beard you could see the bugs wave…

Name: Kyan Atkinson

Age: 9

There once was a girl called Matilda
Who ate so much cake till it filled her,
She let off a big fart,
And shot off like a dart,
An experience that almost killed her.

Name: Matthew Doherty

Age: 10

There once were a couple of twits
Who caught a bad case of nits
They scratched at their heads
Till the scabs popped and bled
Then they nibbled the crusty dried bits

Name: Grace Simpson

Age: 7

My horrible holiday

My family holiday this year was a mess,
The caravan next to ours contained...can you guess
The Twits, who were noisy and rude as can be,
Throwing bogies and old bits of food at me!

They would argue all night and then snore all day long
The smell of rotten food and pig poo was really too strong!
Mrs Twit made a cake and my mum ate a slice
She realised though after, it was made of dead mice!

So we had a family meeting and all hatched a plan
To rid the campsite of Mrs Twit and her hideous man
In the middle of the night, to their caravan we crept
And began to prepare our plan while they slept.

Dad tied a rope that went all the way round
We attached all the fireworks without making a sound,
Then we stood back and when mum gave the word,
The caravan shot high in the air like a bird!

We launched the caravan right up into you space
you should of seen the look on the Twit's face!
We watched as the caravan set on fire
But when I told my friends, they called me a liar!

So you think you're Revolting, you slimy little toad Enter Here