Stolen Fruits!
Oh dear, what have we here,
A stepping stool she needs to reach,
The fruit that’s almost near,
My back throws in the breach,
Steps onto me with vigour,
To stretch as tall she could,
Now that she’s ten feet bigger,
The juicy plum she took,
Yet to her dismay,
It’s full of worms and maggots,
That’s what I heard her say,
She rather eat it cooked, unlike some darned faggots,
It was the heat though she succumbed,
She ate it raw and juicy,
New heights and depths she plumbed,
That made her rather woozy,
Oh dear I said, as she fell down,
You must not feel to well,
There was no laughter, just a frown,
She was, unhappy you could tell.
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Regis
Georg
Be always safe,
Karen