There's this thing called a cup,
You wish and wish to fill it up.
You think about it night an day-
These thoughts they never go away.
Are they uneven, too big, too small,
Will they ever grow at all?
Then, one day, before your very eyes,
They start to grow to a monstrous size.
But soon they will get baggy,
And disgustingly saggy.
So, enjoy'em while ya can,
Before you look like Gran!