Boys

 

MY BROTHER

This a poem that I wrote for my brother, Evan, for his 9th birthday. It’s about boys and how they can get obsessed with taking things apart. Sometimes, when my brother or dad are building or taking something apart, they are so into it they can’t even do anything else properly or think about anything else. They call it work mode.   It’s also supposed to be funny and humorous.

Muddle & Meddle

Muddle & Meddle

Fix & Fiddle

Fix & Fiddle

 

BOYS

Boys will be boys, wherever they are,
they’ll sit with their dad, their father or their pa,
then they’ll muddle and meddle, fix and fiddle,
joggle and jiggle for hours,
connecting different powers.

Then just shout for some tea or some food,
which I think is just plain rude.
They’ll scheme, plot and plan,
about whatever nonsense,
on little bits they’ll spend their pence.

They’ll examine cogs,
in their old work togs.

They’ll closely inspect
and try to detect,
then make sure they’ve double checked,
they are all teched,
what’s next to dissect?

So can’t you see?
They won’t even stop to have a pee,
although maybe for some tea,
it’s plain to see:

Boys will be boys, wherever they are,
they’ll sit with their dad, their father or their pa,
then they’ll muddle and meddle, fix and fiddle,
joggle and jiggle for hours,
connecting different powers.

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