Little Man

We call him our little 
man.
Quite a little mechanic
in this,our land.
If he thinks he can fix
it,he probably can.

He plays real hard,all
day long.
From sun up,to sun down,
in this little town.
When mom says it's time
for bed,he will only frown.

His bologna and hot dogs,
he loves to eat.
But, no socks,or shoes,
does he want on his feet.

He likes his tractors,cars,
and trucks,but when they
won't run,it really sucks.

He always likes,to drink
our pop.
When he gets started,he
will not stop.

In his mouth,and down
the drain.
Over his tongue,without
any pain.

When nightime comes,
and he's ready to sleep.
Not a word from his mouth,
not even a peep.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2006

Poem

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