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 © | Year Posted 2016

Poem

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