When you were born, stars were popped out of their
sockets with your loud crying.
You didn't like strangers - you'd yell at the top
of your lungs.
Poor Mom, you were such a cute little baby, but boy
what a pair of lungs!
At Christmas when we all got to go sit on Santa's
lap, your little face got all screwed up and out
came the yells and crying as a photographer got the
perfect shot for the newspaper's front page.
Poor Santa Claus.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
realllllllllllyyyyyyyy nice and cute..................