43 Birch Road,
I have every copy of the Monkees monthly so far, and every one has been, great, super, fantastic, gorgeous, zany, marvellous, picturesque, exciting, interesting, fabulous, terrific, swinging, groovy, smashing and out of this world. So I do hope that 1968’s Monkees monthlys will be as good as 1967’s, but I’m sure they will.
Mad Monkee Fan,
178 North Sea Lane,
I quite agree with Ann who wrote in last month’s issue about Micky flying his helicopter. Also I read in last month’s issue that Micky intends to buy a faster Go-kart, which will go between 130/140 m.p.h. I know Micky enjoys doing dangerous things but he must think of the possibility of getting hurt or even killed. Micky as I love you very! very! much, Please take care of yourself Micky, because I think you get carried away with racing machines.
110a, Woodthorpe Road,
Dear Jackie and Fans,
The Monkees work very hard, what with filming and recording. Also we, the fans, spend a lot of our time on the Monkee, what with waiting outside hotels and everything.
So, my friend and I would like to start a “Let the Monkees have a rest” scheme. The idea is that when the Monkees come to England two thirds of their holiday is for rest and freedom. No one must go up to the hotel or phone the Monkees. There must be no autograph hunters and no chasing after them.
Two True Monkee Fans,
23 Kevington Drive,
St. Paul’s Cray,
(Dedicated to Baby Nesmith and sung to the tune of ‘Alternate Title’.)
Your a wonderful baby and your theirs all theirs,
And there doesn’t seem a way that you won’t cause them grey, white hairs.
It’s too easy sticking pins in your poor derriere
Your Mummy says you’re messy but you never seem to care.
Your Daddy and your Mummy they are cleaning up the floor,
Your brothers at the window, there’s a knock upon the door.
It’s your Uncles David Jones with Peter on his head,
With Micky on his shoulders he looks as though he’s dead.
Why don’t you go to sleep?
Why do you always weep?
Why don’t you do what I did,
Go to sleep without a peep.
Now they’ve dampened down the music,
And the cot is rather hard.
I’ve been pacing for an hour, its been yard after yard.
Sometimes its too difficult to stifle a great yawn.
I’ve been up at three each morning since the day that you were born.
Why do you yell at me?
Why don’t you stop and see?
Why don’t you shush? or I’ll shush you
So I can get some sleep.
By Moira Lawson,
29 Leam Road,
Magazine: Monkees Monthly
Editor: Jackie Richmond
Publisher: Beat Publications Ltd.