There's a density to my son
Outside he's all blonde fluffy chick hair, duckling smiles, and
But pick him up and he's a condensed brick,
A silver chunk with 10 kilos on the side,
A car crushed into a cube.
You could probably use him to anchor a ship
But please don't.
I wasn't from the right school,
Or even the right class.
Hoity toity, la-di-da,
Shove it up your arse.
If you have any thoughts on these poems, Eleanor Rycroft
would be pleased to hear them.