'Can a whisk be fun?' she said to me, it made me stop so suddenly, the whisk went still and I looked at her, 'I'll explain' I say; 'and you will concur.'
'If I was to ask if cakes are fun, you'd say not unless they were in your tum.' 'What stirs the cake mix?' I'd then say, my point made I'd go on my way.
Next we'd stand over a siblings sleeping head, and twist the whisk in their hair on the bed. No guilt we would feel when they woke up and saw, a hair cut would be in order, no hair no more.
Finally the noise they make, it's not that pleasant in anyone's wake. The rattling whir annoys the mind, and drives neighbors crazy I think you'll find.
Cakes, torment and frustrated glares, are enough to make me laugh my fair share. Can a whisk be fun?; I know it to be true, with an imagination like mine there's few things you can't do.