Miss Katie liked to play kazoo
And played it really well.
She took it with her everywhere
And shared for Show and Tell.
Most every day she practiced hard,
In morning, noon, at night,
While bathing in her bubbly tub
Or flying her new kite.
She blew a tune while walking with
Her two Black Labradors.
That music helped her to have fun
When doing daily chores.
Then she kazooed to every beat
Of backstrokes in the pool-
While jumping rope and hopping scotch
Or skipping home from school.
But last Monday when she woke up
She had a little cough,
That turned into a tickle and
Just threw her rhythm off.
Those jolly tunes were not quite right
They sounded more like wheezes,
Which turned into an awful noise
When she came down with sneezes.
The doctor came and looked way down
Her sore and itchy throat,
And said, “Your bumpy, purple tongue
Is covered in a coat.”
“You must put down that old kazoo
It’s making you quite sick,
‘Cause all your germs are living in
That dirty metal shtick.”
With that, Katie began to cry
And blew her runny nose.
The doctor gave her medicine,
But did not heal her woes.
And when he left she took her toy
And hid it in her cheeks,
Then slid beneath her bed covers
For one-and-one-half weeks.
She never said a single word
Or even made a peep.
It seemed poor Katie swallowed it
Sometime during her sleep.
Her mother said, “It’s time to get
Out of that messy bed.”
And as she pulled back on the sheets
Her face filled up with dread.
A funny lump stuck straight across
Her neck, from side to side.
Poor Katie wanted to speak out
But only kazoo-cried.
This sent a kazoo shiver up
From her ten tingly toes,
And forced a sneeze from down below
Right up her sniffly nose.
With one big jolt that old kazoo
Shot out from Katie’s mouth,
Then traveled past her window pane-
And headed somewhere south.
In one deep sigh of sweet relief
She said with a big smile,
“I think it’s best if I practice
Just whistling for a while.”
By Susan Burd © 2011