Thursday, 10 January 2013

A poo poem

My left hand smells of cheese 'n' onion
My right hand smells of poo
I'm a busy mommy
What am I to do?

I eat with my left hand,
I wipe bums with my right
At least I keep them separate
Unless it's late at night

Whose poo? You ask?
Lemme tell you,
They smell of different things
One poo smells of fresh-cut grass
The other of onion rings.

I try to wash as I go along,
But something always comes up
One kid runs off, and I give chase
That's why I'm a mucky pup.

They say that germs is healthy
That it toughens up the bod
But at this stage it's crazy,
Who am I trying to cod?

At least they wash their own hands
Well, one of them at least
That is, if they're really dirty
And all the games have ceased.

So here I sit, trying to snack
And ponder thus upon
Was it left, or was it right?
Or both, the poo was on?


  1. Ha ha ha ha ha! A good laugh at the very start of the day.


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