Andy Mchandy
Andy Mchandy, had skills to ply his trade.
But all he did was lay around like he made it in the shade.
The house he built was made of dreams that popped just like balloons.
And when he woke he was still broke still singing his sad tunes.
Maybe someday he'll find a way to make it without work.
But we all know that that don't pay, you just end up a jerk.
He missed the point when he told the joke.
Now his dreams have all gone up in smoke.
Andrea wanted more. Hope you like. :)
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment