I chanced upon Polly Wolly
Walking one day after school
Clearly without her doodle
Something she thought she'd never lose

She told me she had sat it down
As it was out of tune
And when doodles sound more like poodles
What else is there to do

So I took a hold of Polly
And led her by the hand
Downtown to the lost and found
Where all that's lost is left

She went on and on about her doodle
Like a long lost friend
She asked the lass behind the desk
If she'd ever see her doodle again

The lass asked the doodles color scheme
And how large it was in size
Seems people lose their doodles often
If not most all the time

When they handed her her doodle back
There really wasn't much to say
As Polly Wolly and her doodle
Waddled arm in arm merrily away