Pick Yourself an ‘Ology

You wanna be a scientist?
Just pick yourself an ‘ology.
It doesn’t matter what it means,
You’ll learn the terminology.

Psych-, myc-,
Physi-, soci-,
Dermat-, haemat-,
Primat-, climat-,

Wanna be a scientist?
Just pick yourself an ‘ology.
The list is never ending,
It could fill a fat anthology.

O-, zo-,
The-, ge-,
Lith-, myth-,
Hom-, pom-,
Crimin-, termin-,
Volcan-, campan-,
Demon-, phon-,
And dendochron-.

You wanna be a scientist?
Just pick yourself an ‘ology.
And those I’ve missed out of the list,
Have my profound apology.

Mr Babbage’s Computer

Mr Babbage
Designed a computer,
Like lots of people do.
But Mr Babbage
Finished his
In 1822.

No keyboard
And no CD-ROM,
Machined from solid steel,
With rods and gears
And levers
And a great big driving wheel.

Mr Babbage
Planned some more,
Yet didn’t live to see ‘em.
But you can find one
Working,
In the London Science Museum.

Alexander Graham Bell Tests the First Telephone

Hello?
Anyone there?
The first call to be made
On the very first telephone.
Hello?

Hello?
There’s no reply.
Would, perhaps, a second
Telephone be useful?
Hello?

Hello?
A phone for me,
And one for you as well.
That’s better. Try again. Bother! It’s
Engaged.

Joining Things Together

You can staple it or screw it,
You can paste or pin or glue it,
You can stitch it, you can sew it,
Ask your teacher and she’ll show it.
You can plait it, you can tie it,
It’s not difficult, just try it,
You can weld or you can solder
(With the help of someone older).

But if all of those should fail,
Use a great big nail!

I Made It Out Of …

I made a hammer
Out of glass.
Did it matter?
Did it shatter?

I made a window pane
From wood.
Why did I do it?
I can’t see through it!

I made a football
Out of steel.
Tried to belt it.
Ow! I felt it!

I made an anchor
Out of plastic.
Did it sink?
What do you think?

I made mistakes,
That, there’s no doubt of.
So, what would you
Have made them out of?

Up in Smoke

Cornelius loved Chemistry,
It had a strange attraction.
The final words he spoke were: ‘Sir?
Is this a chain reaction?’

First published in ‘Shorts’, edited by Paul Cookson, Macmillan Children’s Books, 2000.

Big ‘G’

I’m Gravity. Just call me ‘G’,
And there’s no getting away from me.
I’m the biggest force in every town
Whatever goes up, I pull it right back down.
Though you can’t see me, I’ve got hold of you
And I’m part of everything you do.
I keep you on the ground, every place you go,
I make raindrops fall, I make rivers flow,
I make climbing hard, I make sledging fun,
I make shopping heavy for everyone.
I keep the moon up there in its proper place,
I make shooting stars fall out of space,
I keep the food on your plate, the drink in your cup,
If it wasn’t for me, everything would fall UP!

I’m Gravity. I’m big, big ‘G’,
And you’ll never, never, ever get away from me.

Ooh! It’s Hot!

Ooh, it’s hot!
Phew, it’s hot!
Boy, I’m telling you it’s hot!
Scorching sand beneath your feet,
Ice creams dripping with the heat.
Hot enough for frying eggs.
Burning arms and burning legs,
Squirt the sunscreen with a ‘Splat!’
Hang on! Don’t forget your hat!
Pumping up the paddling pool,
Garden hose to keep you cool.

Ooh, it’s hot!
Phew, it’s hot!
More than Timbuktu it’s hot.
Suddenly we’re all complaining,
… Cheer up – it’ll soon be raining!

Maxine the Vaccine

You’ve heard me tell of Cyrus
The virus who’s so cruel.
Who makes so many people sick
And stops you going to school.

Well I’ve got news for Cyrus,
For a valiant hero’s come,
To break his crown, to blunt his spikes,
To kick him in the bum.

Maxine the vaccine,
Her quest is to protect us,
Her lance is sharp, her aim is true,
She’s racing to inject us.

Her mystic, magic potion
Will create an army, teeming
With her antibody buddies
Like a suit of armour gleaming.

The battle will be loud and long,
Whamoozle! Bash! Kerpow!
So wash your hands, as you’ve been told,
Just like you’re doing now.

Then give a cheer for Maxine,
She’s our vaccine superkid.
She’ll dump Cyrus in the dustbin
And superglue the lid!

Cyrus the Virus

Cyrus,
The virus.
He’s nasty and he’s mean.

Cyrus
The virus.
So small he can’t be seen.

He lurks on taps and toilet seats,
He really loves the loo!
On bannisters and handles,
Whatever can you do?

Wash your hands! Wash your hands!
Make him squirm and make him struggle.
Wash your hands! Wash your hands!
Send him glooping down the plughole.

He wants to make us cough and choke,
He’s really a disgrace.
If he gets onto your fingers,
He could end up on your face.

Wash your hands! Wash your hands!
It’s the thing he fears the most.
Wash your hands! Wash your hands!
And we’ll make this Cyrus toast!

We can thwart his evil plans
So remember – WASH YOUR HANDS!!!