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Tuesday, May 8, 2012


My Sundays


‘Twas  on a Sunday,
In the bright month of May,
I woke up at nine
And felt rather fine
I put in my bag
Which looked like a rag
Kittens and muffins and blueberry scones
Pencils and sharpeners and scaly pine cones
Wombats and fairies and lilies and squirrels
Sun drops and maggots and shiny icicles
All of a sudden my mummy was there
All of a sudden my daddy got a scare
All of a sudden  I wanted to run
Out in the rain or out in the sun
But now on a Sunday
In the month that is May
I sit in the house
Quiet like a mouse
I eat my crisps and munch my books
Never mind the mites who give me looks.

Acknowledgments: Ken Nesbitt and Dipanwita Shome

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