Come and talk to me
As I sit on the naughty chair.
I seem to be surrounded by nannies.
They do not yield sweet milk.
It's a straight-backed chair.
Laddered.
It makes no music if you
Pass your hand along it.
Sit with me and tell me
Where it is we put our
Old chaired naughtiness.
How come nanny keeps singing
Her repetative song of woes
Looking so young?
I'm feeling va va soaring.
As I remember someones always
Naughty
More or less again.
I shall point my naughty finger!
Naughty nannies? What dark secrets unfold on re- arrangement of the upholstry. Take care Sid xx
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Being naughty can be fun..... as long as we're prepared for the consequences! ! LOL! I like this poem it's provocative but in a non-threatening way. Could be taken either way.... and that makes a good poem! Lovely to meet you btw. HG: -) xx