I gave my girl a gift -
a dandy wee device:
a piece of string! A marv'lous thing!
But yet, she weren't at ease.
She seemed, I must admit,
a little... well... let down by it,
so this is what I said to her,
in order to appease:

"You see," I said, "my sweet,
if you take your end, yes,
and tie it to your wrist, and I
tie mine to mine in kind,
we'll never be apart.
Just think, and listen to your heart -
entangled thus, the two of us
will always be entwined!

This single strand of string
can be the bond between
the two of us, no matter where
we go or what we do -
for if you go astray,
or I grow far too far away,
this piece of twine will be divine
to guide me home to you."

Her laugh was long and loud.
She held her hand up high.
"That's great," she said, "but I'm not sure,
and yes, I could be wrong -
but if I am so bold,
I think it's time that you were told:
in case you hadn't noticed,
this string's barely one foot long!"

"You got me good," I grinned.
"It's all part of the plan.
You see, if I connect us two,
and tether heart to heart,
I'll always be in reach.
I do beseech you heed my speech.
A foot's the furthest I could ever
want us both apart."

She frowned her furrowed brow.
She eyed me, eye to eye.
"I'm not your dog, you wacko!
Leave me well enough alone!
You visit me each day;
each time I tell you, 'go away',
but somehow you still think I'm keen
to be a thing you own."

She soundly slammed the door.
I walked my way back home.
I so wish she would smile at me
and lead me to her room.
But I can heal the rift.
She's sure to love tomorrow's gift:
a teddy bear, with fluffy hair,
and eyes that I can zoom!

Mary had a little lamb,
two lobsters and a Christmas ham,
a three-pound tub of chicken wings,
seven bratwurst tied with strings,
thirteen loaves of garlic bread,
a schnitzel bigger than her head,
four rare steaks, a dozen eggs,
caviar and turkey's legs,
strips of bacon, mushroom stew,
chunks of bread and cheese fondue,
and two whole jars of sauerkraut,
(to clean all of her insides out).

Finishing the pasta salad,
Mary soon looked drawn and pallid.
"I don't feel well," poor Mary said.
"I think I need to rest my head."
Then from her stomach came a moan,
a straining, churning, twisted groan.
Mary gasped; her eyes grew wide.
She'd only seconds to decide.
What could she do? Where could she go?
Her stomach was about to blow!
So, reaching for the nearest bucket,
she retched, and then began to chuck it.

All the courses that she'd swallowed,
and the apertifs they'd followed,
all the steaks and all the fish,
each and every single dish
came flying back from in her belly,
filling up the bucket smelly
with a foul and toxic brew,
and no one knew quite what to do,
so this went on for ten whole minutes
till Mary had expelled her innards.
When she was done, her eyes were red,
and sweat was pouring from her head.

"Are you alright, sweet Mary dear?"
her mother asked. She didn't hear.
For Mary was already off -
the waiters saw her try to scoff
the whole entire pudding bar.
Now, this had pushed her mum too far.
"Alright!" her mother cried, "I'm through!
I've done the best that I can do.
I'm sick and tired of all you eat.
I will not pay for all this meat.
I'm going home. Go get some help —"
Then Mary's mum let out a yelp!

She glanced down at her legs and saw
sweet Mary there begin to gnaw!
She struck the lass, but with great haste,
alas, the girl had reached her waist.
As Mary's ma was there devoured
by her offspring, overpowered,
she cried one thing ere final slaughter:
"It smells like lamb in here, my daughter."
Mary licked her lips and grinned.
She belched out loud and then broke wind.
She felt her tummy start to rumble -
and calmly ordered apple crumble.

Sometimes, just walking a few yards makes me tired enough for a nap.

Sometimes, when I'm exercising, my ears start ringing.

Sometimes I look at birds but they fly away when I get too close.

Sometimes I lick my bowl after dessert.

Sometimes my toilet starts to smell.

Sometimes people step on my toes.

Sometimes I like to pretend the sofa is a playground.

Sometimes I feel like things are just out of my reach.

Sometimes I'm clumsy and knock things over, but I'm never in trouble for long.

Sometimes all I need are cuddles.

And if you're good, sometimes I'll ***** furballs for you, to show you my undying love.

In from the rain the barber comes,
and shimmies off his jacket.
His customers' hair
is already there,
waiting for him to attack it.

Swish! Slice! Snickerty-snack!
Face the mirror, forwards!
How ya bin?
Tilt your chin -
the hairs fall to the floorboards!