See the running of the father,
I think he's angry at the oldfather.
He finds it hard to see the bottle,
Overshadowed by the scared cottle.
Who is that crying near the pillow?
I think she'd like to eat the calvillo.
She is but a lost child,
Admired as she sits upon a goodchild.
Her confused car is just a can,
It needs no gas, it runs on afghanistan.
She's not alone she brings a cabinet,
a pet mouse, and lots of kabinett.
The mouse likes to chase a chair,
Especially one that's in the airfare.
The father shudders at the hurt paper
He want to leave but she wants the wastepaper.
