Kimmy Poem by Joseph Colecchia

A little baby plays with his throne,
He belches and moans,
His nannies groan,
He shouts and he shouts and he shouts,
But he does not receive a clout.

They say the baby's turned into a boy,
He's still on his throne, it's no ploy.
However now he has toys to look after,
They have been there before him, no plaster,
Yet he takes care of them badly,
And they must stay with him gladly,
For they are in awe of their owner,
And do not realise he's a loner.

The toys are in desperate need of attention,
Yet the boy thinks only of retention,
They pretend it is fine,
That the toys are eating cheese, bread and wine,
That they are all divine,
Yet the baby is scheming all the time,
So he builds up a wall out of lies,
But it does not deceive the spies.
The spies are not best pleased with his plans,
They seems like one of a madman's,

So the boy gets angry; the spies are not letting him have any more candy,
And everybody knows it's not dandy,

For the baby has spat out his dummy.

So he pulls out his sword,
Pure diamond, of course,
And yet the spies are in doubt of his strike,
But for sure it will not come as recondite.