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Poem


Just how many babies 
Are swapped at birth 
With a look alike other 
That other being 
Some demon or some 
Illegal Alien exchange program 
Being covertly done 
Right under our very noses 
In broad daylight 
In maternity wards worldwide 

I should know 
Being born with bi-fid thumbs 
And six toes on each foot 
Yet, it has to be my sister
She's wicked smart 
Perhaps, too smart for her own good 
And she has a big head
She’s got to be one 

Of course, what’s a little culture shock too 
Beings' stranger in a Strangeland 
After walking the long long walk 
Can’t even talk the strange talk 
Seeking asylum from oppression 
Seeking the land of Liberty 
Feel free to wear their worn-out sandals 
They’ll gladly trade for your Michael Jorden Nikes 

Then again, maybe the exchange comes later 
Some babysitter’s smuggling ring 
Except she promises to turn your little rascal 
Into an angel, for real 
Still criminal but God ordained

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