Monday, December 6, 2010

196. Big Bad Blue-Blanketed Birthday Baby Boy

I wonder what it is you do
When you see me and go “Boo-hoo.”
I wonder if you think I too
Would like to go “Boo-hoo” to you.

You mustn’t think that I’m that way
For I would never make you bray
And I would hate to have you say
That I am the one who ruined your day.

Do you ever think you see
Something sort of strange in me?
Or is it just that you are free
To take a little thinking spree?

In what December kind of mood
Might you expect to eat good food?
Is there a reason you think that you’d
Like to drink what you’d just chewed?

There must be something that you think
That makes you want to have a drink,
But is that a reason to wear pink
When you are dancing in a sink?

I ask these questions of you now
Because I’ve come to wonder how
You ever thought you’d be a cow
When you were smaller than a sow.

Did you believe that it was right
To leave your mother in a fright,
To run out screaming through the night,
Then laughing crazy with delight?

You must, by now, have had a fit
When you found out you couldn’t sit
Upon the chair your sister’d split
When she had tried to act a skit.

I must beg you to stop this thing
That makes you always want to sing
And, oh, so screechy it does sting
With every word you have to fling.

I’ve asked you once, I’ll ask you twice
To keep on trying to be nice
Because I’ll drop you in a trice
If you insist I pay the price.

I can’t keep up, I can’t keep down
The reason why you make me frown.
You might think I’m just a clown,
But I’m the reason you don’t like brown.

So tell me if you think you know
The reason that it doesn’t snow
When your sister wears a bow
And asks when she can start to mow.

And tell me when you want to try
To crab and grouch and gripe and cry
And win a prize and catch the eye
Of some young girl who likes you spry.

You see, I think you realize
That all I’ve said are fibs and lies,
That you will always win the prize
For the brightest and the best of eyes.

And I wish you, too, a happy birth,
And many years of peace on earth,
And only the slimmest range of girth
Until you make it to your berth.

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