Short The Dork. Poem by hazel jackson
Short The Dork.
He was short.
He was a dork.
He smelled his boogers,
He ate them with sugar.
He ate with his hands,
He was one nasty little old man.
He snorted at us holding a fork,
I couldn't stand that nasty little
Dork.
He was always mean and never nice
That little old man, until he came across this dorky old gal.
She blew his mind with a price tag sale.
What a clever, clever gal.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/26/2024 12:23:17 AM # 1.0.0.1119
