Your Poppa's Pooped Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Beginning to feel the strain,
From the same campaigns.
And up and down the river,
The pollution still flows.

Go away my child,
Your poppa's pooped.

Hoping that tomorrow will bring a new day,
But those with moping faces got their frowns on display.

Go away my child,
Your poppa's pooped.

Wishing to maintain and not lose gains.
But the problems do exist and it's a mind drain.

Go away my child,
Your poppa's pooped.

Maybe in a minute after I get a snooze...
Your poppa will play,
And you'll have your way.

Beginning to feel the strain,
From the same campaigns.
And up and down the river,
The pollution still flows.

Go away my child,
Your poppa's pooped.

Wishing to maintain and not lose gains.
But the problems do exist and it's a mind drain.

Maybe in a minute after I get a snooze...
Your poppa will play,
And you'll have your way.

Hoping that tomorrow will bring a new day,
But those with moping faces got their frowns on display.

Go away my child,
Your poppa's pooped.

Hoping that tomorrow will bring a new day,
But those with moping faces got their frowns on display.

Maybe in a minute after I get a snooze...
Your poppa will play,
And you'll have your way.
But...
Go away my child,
Your poppa's pooped.

'But daddy...? '

Hoping that tomorrow will bring a new day,
But those with moping faces got their frowns on display.

'But daddy...? '

Go away my child,
Your poppa's pooped.

'But daddy...? '

Hoping that tomorrow will bring a new day,
But those with moping faces got their frowns on display.

'But daddy...? '

Go away my child,
Your poppa's pooped.
And a snooze is overdue.