Wool
It’s wool cried Fred; don’t you know?
My coat is wool? who made it so?
You grew it like you grew your head said Fred
And the shearer comes, it’s Mr. Red
He’ll put your wool coat in a bag
And then you’ll look ugly like a hag
They wash it and then dry the wool
And make yarn like spaghetti on a spool
Yes, they’ll make sweaters, scarves and hats
And maybe make a jacket and a mat for cats
It’s nice and cool when your wool is gone
It feels like spring when summer’s on
Copyright © John Squires | Year Posted 2016
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment