General

Nursery Rhymes – Our Kids

Our kids (in particular, the Ghoshs, the Iyers, the Kunders, Mehtas, Manniges, Palanys, Yederys, Raos, Joshis, Nadkarnis, Mathurs, Tanks) would one day exhibit a part of our genome (time to go woohoo) when their nursery rhymes go like …

Iyer’s kid
twinkle twinkle little star
how i wonder how you are
up above the world so high
appa amma in the sky
yeh jo chaand hai na ….

Alap’s kid
johnny johnny
yes papa
eating sugar
no papa
telling lies
no papa
open your mouth
go F#*$ yourself

Baangd’s kid
mary had a little lamb
little lamb, little lamb
mary had a little lamb
to kya mein naachu?
daaad, i want busta rhymes

Mannu’s kid
Baa, baa black sheep
Have you any food
Yes sir, yes sir
Three bags full
Sahi hai Sahi hai
Ma, i’m hungry, gimme thepla and undhio

Andy’s kid
Row, row, row your boat
Gently Down the stream.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Life is but a dream.
I will still not tell Krupal’s kid
ki woh roti kyu khaata hai

Abhi’s kid
London Bridge is falling down,
Falling down, falling down.
London Bridge is falling down,
Lamba story hai, baadmein batayega

Paro’s kid
Jack and Jill went up the hill,
To fetch a pail of water,
I willin’t tell you what happened afterwards

Bird’s kid
This old man, he played one;
He played knick-knack on my thumb.
With a knick-knack, paddy whack,
This old man, hey he’s my own dad.

Apoo’s kid
A B C D E F G
H I J K Let me go pee
Old MacDonald had a farm, E I E I O,
Now I know my ABCs

Pully’s kid
Ring-a-ring o’roses
A pocket full of posies,
Atishoo! Atishoo!
We all fall down.
This is not helping me Pa
Can i please study for my SATs

Harshal’s kid
Hickory, dickory, dock,
The mouse ran up the clock.
AMD struck one
Intel struck nine
Hickory, dickory, dock
I want to clock my block

Alpu’s kid
Spiderman, Spiderman
Friendly neighbourhood Spiderman
(Interrupted by Dad)
“That’s not a Nursery Rhyme”
I know dad, I was teasing

Pals’ kid
Humpty Dumpty
Sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty
Had a great fall
Waaaaaaah Waaaaaah
MuuuhMeeeeee

Krupal’s kid
I’m a little teapot
Short and stout
Here is my handle
Here is my spout
When I get all steamed up
Hear me shout
I sound like my daddy
and bloj in my shorts

This post attempts to illustrate the choices made by us and their inherited follies. With that knowledge in order, it may also hurt sentiments of all those mentioned above and also turn nasty with riot bombs being hurled towards me by respective spouses. Worry not, coz I promise to bring their genome pools into a fresh batch of Nursery Rhymes as well. I sure can wait till everyone above ties the knot.

Also a third version will be created, which will have a mix-match of the husband-wife combined gene pool and direct attempts to assassinate their characters is quite obviously imminent.

Disclaimer: If any of the above families feel the need to dispute on the Rhyme selected and it’s inherited style, they may do so by actually procreating (usually takes nine months and a couple of years at least for the first few words to pop out) thereby proving that their respective kid sings the rhyme differently. All qualms of suing me will be taken in light spirit with mixing agents like cola or soda to be consumed at Alap’s place.

I would also like to invite you all to post alternatives to the above Rhymes in the comments section below, in true spirit, exhibiting all possible characteristics of the aforementioned (including me) with no qualms on holding back on assassination attempts.

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