Allsorts

Rain, rain rather wet
And I will bet
Ice is just you frozen
No no please don’t go
I WANNA HAVE SOME FUN TODAY

Rain is good for some people
And is disappointing for others
If you stay inside you can be creative
Never anywhere can you be creative

I hate school
But my mum says I need to go
Because I’m a fool
In the morning I said to my mum I have the flu
She said to me to go vomit in the loo

Mr Skibidi is a nice man
Probably because I am a fan
When I seen my sister I ran
I was really really fast
But I really hope Mr Skibidi will last

A cat asleep on the window ledge
Right next to the door
She didn’t make the tiniest sound
Not even the smallest snore

Eyes closed, ears a-twitch
Dreaming of catching mice
Or maybe it was a butterfly
Something equally nice

Her fluffy bum in the air
Her face against the glass
Watching the cars go by
And the people that would pass

Every time a dog walked past
She jumped out of her seat
She may not be perfect
But she’s good enough for me

I love dance
I’m better than gramps
Gramps loves dance
But he is not that good at dance

Teachers are lovely
Teachers are nice
Teachers are caring
Teachers are there for you
Teachers can be friendly
You can talk to a teacher when you feel down

At the city that’s far behind,
I don’t return because it’s too dark.
Not even a dog barks.
When I get near the city,
I don’t go on the one that’s far behind
Because that’s not my city.
When I get to my city
I hear a cat mew.
When I hear the cat, I mew too.
When she comes she lets me stroke her
And take me home.
She is my cat now.
I know she’s got no-one near,
So Molly, the name of the cat,
Is my friend.

When I remember the city that’s far behind,
I say I’m not returning any more.

There’s a thing at my window
And it looks at my door
It’s driving me crazy
I don’t like this anymore

It has three set of horns
Sprouting from its head
It’s got eight pair of arms
And I feel I am dead

It wears a hat on its toes
To keep it nice and hot
And it looks really hungry
Like I’ll go in its pot

I open my mouth
But no scream comes out
I shrink back in fear
Because it looks like a lout

There’s a thing at my window
I look at it in fear
But all of a sudden
I find its not there

And into the garden the poem gnome strolled
Down the pathway through the house
Away from the other very mean gnomes
Who all they did was roam and roam
I hate these meanies, he would exclaim
Why won’t they, why won’t they play with me?
He never could find and never could lie
About them being mean you see.