A few years ago,
I worked at Tesco,
And in my left pocket,
Was a gnome.
His name,
Garry,
Job,
None.
But he was a lot of fun.
He ran through the isles,
Did two daily runs,
He was oh so little,
Bout the size of my thumb.
One Tuesday night,
When the clock rung twelve,
Little old Garry,
Was sat on a shelve.
Being little,
Means his brain is quite small,
So little old Garry jumped,
And had quite the nasty fall.
CRASH and BOOM,
Garry splattered,
He turned into shards,
Laid out like a platter.
I’ll never forget Garry,
He was funny and shy,
But he was awfully small,
For a top pocket guy.