Last night Dad read a poem about
Some kid’s cradle in a treetop.
The wind blew so hard that it caused
The kid and cradle both to drop.
There’s not a clue about the kid;
What happened after he fell down?
Did he end up like poor old Jack,
Who tripped and fell and broke his crown?
Was Jack a king or why the crown?
And why did Jill not get hurt too?
Couldn’t all of the king’s horses
Have fixed the crown with super glue?
And have you heard of any horse
You’d take an egg to for repair?
And what about the crooked man…
How did he comb his crooked hair?
And just why was he such a crook?
Was he the one that stole the pig
Then turned it loose to kill the goose?
And can a hippo dance a jig?
Did no one try to stop the fork
When it ran off with someone’s spoon?
Did the cow jump because the cat
Couldn’t fiddle a decent tune?
And don’t you think it’s kind of gross,
The story of old Ms. Hubbard?
She looked for a stinky dog bone
Next to the food in her cupboard!
A girl gets swallowed by a wolf,
Her stupidity uncanny;
She sees the wolf’s big eyes and teeth
And still thinks that he’s her granny!
Three little pigs each built a house;
One out of bricks, one straw, one wood.
Wolf couldn’t blow the brick house down,
He was too full of Riding Hood.
What about Little Goldie Locks?
She should be doing time in jail!
Charged with breaking and entering,
No jury would believe her tale!
Do grownups think we are so dumb?
We believe all the things they’ve read?
The one story I know is true,
A monster lives under my bed!
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