The Rind of What I Pluck
I woke up from my slumber,
I even wear a cucumber,
I heard a timber,
What is simmer,
I don't have a glitter,
I know how to make it better,
With enough of sluther,
I am not a chatter,
My mind is not cluttered,
I admired a butler,
I am not honoured to be sudder,
A sudden beat to my heart,
I want to make it last,
A friend by the hand,
I know there is a land,
For me to spend,
I don't know what to lend,
I need to mend,
Is there a way to be kind,
I need to grind,
The local produce into a hind,
In my mind,
There is a line,
Which makes me a shine,
I do have to rhyme,
For that, I put on a thyme,
I could make it on time,
By then, it will be mine.
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