In honor of my sister; the one who collects mud even when it's frozen.
I Love Mud and Mud Loves Me.
I come in, and Mom can see
Just how much the Mud Loves Me.
I go out, and it comes on.
It waits for me, dusk to dawn
No matter where, no matter when
Mud gets onto me, and then:
Mommy cries "You have that Dirt
All over shoes, and hair, and shirt!"
"But Mom," I say, "Can't you see?
"I Love Mud, and Mud Loves Me"
It's better than, "I love poo and poo loves me..."
ReplyDeleteDaaaaaaaad!
Delete;)
It's true... ;) That comment made me laugh! And the poem is awesome! :)
Delete-Carmody
FUN!!! :)
ReplyDelete(And . . . your dad is great at bringing in the bright side of things.)
Love it! Your poem, not your dad's! Great humor though too scented.
ReplyDelete