|
| |
Hang On Loulie Hang On
Where’er you may be let be, said Loulie
Who cannot control her flatulency
Wherever she roams
She plays her air drone
Allowing foul odours to flow freely.
Loulie’s mother is three times a lady
Though her lovely daughter drives her crazy
She put up a tent
With all good intent
To keep her home as fresh as a daisy.
Young Loulie was quite frightfully perturbed
Found that living in a tent was absurd
She could get no sleep
Cold hands and cold feet
And disturbed when her explosives emerged.
Loulie truly tried her best to hang on
Missing her bedroom and mostly her mom
She filled up with wind
Like a bird on wing
Loulie floated off to where sun ne’er shone.
Copyright ©
Beryl Edmonds
|
|