When dear Aunt May fell off the boat,
And couldn't swim and wouldn't float,
Matilda just stood there and smiled.
I really could have slapped that child.


I had a dream. It was my own dream. I dreamt it.
I dreamed my hair was kempt, and my own true love unkempt it.


In the family wishing well,
Willie pushed his sister Nell.
She's there yet because it kilt her,
Now we'll have to buy a filter.

Willie, with a thirst for gore,
Nailed the baby to the door.
Mother said with humor quaint,
"Careful, Bill. Don't mar the paint."

The one about the dream is by Ogden Nash. The others I'm not sure about.