A Bedtime Poem
There once was a boy named Greg
He danced with only one leg
He played jacks and cards and raced his cars
And on weekends he had to beg
His father, he had no job
And was often in a drunken fog
He held a sign on the streets and asked for treats
While Greg looked sad with his dog
Greg's sister, her name was Beth
She stayed swaddled to her mummys breast
She was only a doll but no one ever saw
That her eyes were glassy like death
Now I'm sure if you saw them you'd pass
And say something to make yourself sound like an ass
But while you're judging Greg's dad and his mum and his dog
And you assume Greg's dad lives in a drunken fog
You hope his mum breastfeeds her doll
You should know that Greg goes hungry to bed
And cries 'cause he can't itch his phantom leg
While you're comfy at home wrapped up in your shawl.