It's all in the genes you know what they say.
If the genes are right you may be bright.
You may have eyes of ocean blue.
Very deep, or maybe serene.
Maybe your hair will be raven black,
Or maybe even streaked with ginger.
You maybe a right whinger,
all moany and groany.
You might have ears fitting for the cup of the world.
Your stature maybe six feet four,
A brick outhouse
Or  maybe a mouse,
With neat little teeth,
In a jawline that's fine,
Like a porcelain doll.
With perfect cheekbones,
A spot of rouge dotted on mischievous mums,
Whose jeans fit perfectly over their bums
(c) Livvi