There was a man With the largest of eyes They said he could see For miles wide A job as a lookout

My brain hurts from thinking all the thunks that I have thought or is it from the thoughts of thin… now it hurts more than it ought

There was a man once Who did not step on cracks’ For the fear he had Of breaking his back He’d hop and he’d skip

A poem’s a poem If it ends in a rhyme A poet’s a poet If he writes in spare time A poet grows famous

His pencil would not write No matter how much he would scold… “It’s not about the pencil boy” “It’s about the one who holds it”

Theres a key to happiness The man said as he rocked “But if theres a key to happiness Why would they keep it locked”

Mean Jean The pie eating queen For miles wide She could be seen She’d eat the crusts

You can hide it in make up But I know it’s still there A face designed Only to scare You can try to distract me

Have you ever wondered How the clouds move along If you believe its the wind I’ll tell you that your wrong I sit behind these clouds

If I could invent one thing It would be a bubble blower I’d make myself a bubble friend And really get to know her I’d make myself some bubble boxers

Little sneezing Cynthia Never covered her mouth She would sneeze oh so loud It could be heard clear down south Her sneezing startled the neighbor…