Stop! stop! stop!
Chopo! chop! chop!
Stop singing little chap,
count the candles from the shop,
Frightened over my little punch,
opining the grave on my way to lunch,
I will sit on the couch not a bench,
life in hell is a little tense.
Not finished yet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem