Little Willie, A Hero for Our Times

The following collection of nursery rhymes was inspired by the misadventures of the legendary Little Willie (whom we can only hope has never existed, at least not in the format of one exclusive individual).  When I was a boy, my family had a paperback with a yellow cover adorned with an illustration of a large staring eyeball in black and white entitled The Best of Sick Jokes.  Sadly, the beloved repository of priceless gems has long since vanished in the omnivorous maelstrom of time.  Anyway, that’s where I first learned about Little Willie.  Let me warn you that this fictitious child’s exploits may well make you sick.  Since I’m apt to be dead soon myself, however, I’ve decided to go for broke and embrace this mischievous child’s joyously horrific joke.  As for the repeated announcements of my imminent demise, I’m sorry if I sound like the Boy Who Cried Nuclear Tsunami, but I appear to be heading rather rapidly in that direction.  Again, thanks for your patience in sitting tight for this long-awaited event.


Little Willie hit the gas,

dragged the baby by the ass.

Mother cried, “My Little Will,

we’ve taught you too well how to kill.”


Willie loved to go to church

singing in the voice of Lurch.

When the pastor glared at him

Willie stabbed him on a whim.


Little Willie raised the flag;

other boys called him a fag.

Willie moved to set them straight

when he used their balls for bait.


Willie’s elementary school

taught the children to be cruel.

Willie said, “I’ll get my mom

to fix this place–she has a bomb.”


Little Willie held his breath

long enough to tickle Death.

Then he slit the baby’s throat,

buttoned up his winter coat.


Willie put a hand grenade

in the baby’s lemonade.

As the babe was blown to bits,

Willie said, “Get off my tits!”


Little Willie, my best friend,

said my life he had to end.

As I begged him to desist

he just smashed me with his fist.


Willie took a Barbie doll

with him to the shopping mall.

When a guard said, “That’s for girls,”

Willie grabbed him by the pearls.


Willie was a little nut

and a pain in Mother’s butt.

When she finally grounded him,

Willie set fire to the gym.


Willie caused an avalanche,

burying his uncle’s ranch.

When his cousin made a fuss,

Willie nailed him with a bus.


Willie taught the Hitler Youth

his own version of the truth.

He said, “You must learn to love,”

pecked his eyes out with a dove.


Willie the illiterate

was so inconsiderate.

Since he couldn’t read or write,

bookworms he just had to bite.


William licked the microphone–

thought it was an ice cream cone.

The awful flavor made him sick,

ah, but barfing did the trick.


Willie read a magazine,

chewing on a jelly bean.

When the dentist said, “Your turn,”

Willie snapped, “In Hell you’ll burn!”


Willie poured some gasoline

in his teacher’s Listerine.

As the teacher hacked and choked,

Willie shrugged.  “It’s just a joke.”


Little Willie went too far,

killing Granddad with the car.

Grandma said, “I’ll get you now!”

Willie paused to take a bow.


Little Willie mowed the lawn,

woke a neighbor up at dawn.

When the man told him to stop,

Willie yelled, “My dad’s a cop!”


Willie was a little boy

to whom murder was a joy.

Everyone he met, he killed,

so his life was laughter-filled.


Willie raised a glass of blood

to the all-consuming flood,

saying, “Yahweh’s quite a guy;

that dude’s vengeance makes me cry.”


Willie had an appetite

for an evening barroom fight.

On my skull he broke a chair,

quickly quipping, “That ain’t fair!”


Willie with a Gatling gun

shot his classmates just for fun.

The president addressed the nation:

Willie promptly changed the station.


Little Willie loved to drink

till he threw up in the sink.

Mother said, “That is so sick–

you really are a little prick.”


Willie smoked a cigarette

as he learned the alphabet.

Teacher said, “Now put that out–

not in my eye!  What’s that about!”


Little Willie knows his stuff

and he likes to play it rough.

Children best not cross his path,

lest they taste his awful wrath.







Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s