He’d eat his Glorbic Cheese
When wattling down his Withy Toy
He whittled off his Knees
When Bobby’s parents Came around
They said “How small you seem!
Whose pretty Knees are those you’ve found
One blue one red one Green?”
But Bob just wailed right piteously
And cried “Mama Papa!
Those knees upon the floor you see
were mine - that’s whose they are!”
Their calm reserve it was now done -
Ma fainted, father ponged.
“Oh god what have you done, my son,
To do your legs such wrong!”
“How dare you wrog our sacrifice!
Have you no splergle doop?
Your mother’s healthy way with dice
Now Will surely over-floop!”
But up shot Pa and shouted “Jeeze!
I have a spoofus plan!
I shall myself replace your knees
With pistons from my van!”
Well Ma she blanched, But out Pa went
And returned with Pistons three.
“They’re Greased and oiled and Renault sent
From your trials they’ll set you free!”
And from that day our Bobby went
About the dewy loam;
In his wake a petrol scent
From knees of shining chrome.
By Dom, Mary & Tam