Crooked Man

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There was a crooked man

Who lived in a crooked shoe

He had seven million children

And a bad case of the flu

His crooked little children

Were dressed stylish and greasy

They sang crooked little songs

And left us all uneasy

His friends Jack and Peter

Left him crooked work each day

While they made the world much neater

With their crooked little play

And his crooked little canine

Smiled a crooked toothy smile

And his crooked little feline

Thought she was a crocodile

So we ring a ring of roses

And buy pickled pepper jars

And then shove them up our noses

In the back seats of our cars

And the crooked world keeps turning

Spinning merrily on and on

And our pitiful fire's burning

Who will miss him when he's gone

For the answers are not easy

And the truth is not that hard

But the doing makes me queasy

For my mind is filled with lard

And the crooked man is smiling

With his crooked teeth and lips

At my crooked empty cupboard

And my fat and bony hips

But the sun is shining straight

Down upon the ground beneath

And I will not look upon them

I won't see his crooked teeth.



copyright (c) 2012 christopher w neal all rights reserved

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