I made this poem up myself,
The Man With The Crooked Nose
The man with the crooked nose,
Stood up with a crooked pose,
Sniffed a crooked rose.
As he sniffed the crooked flower he choose,
He tripped on a crooked garden hose.
As he fell he muttered a prose,
That he were somewhere else,goodness knows.
There he was,all froze,
All covered with crooked icicles,all the way up to his toes!
Oh,only the crooked goodness knows.
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