I use it when I write,
I use it when I fight.
It's the hand that holds my blanket
all throughout the night.
I'm a lefty and I'm proud
So now I'll sing out loud,
"Screw all of you righties, you can't tell me how to write! "
I hate the scissors that are meant
for a righty- go get bent!
Always molded to their hand
and they think that they're so grand
Have you ever noticed that the leaders of this land,
the presidents, to be precise,
mostly wrote with their left hand,
We only make up a piece that adds to ten percent,
but we make fifty parts to that when asking presidents!
All southpaws are like shining gems,
rare, but great to be near them
And my left hand which types this ode
hopes to make amends
for being so darn stinking great
and getting things thrown arrow-straight
and wearing my big wristwatch
that tells me when I'm late.
This is an ode to my left hand,
and my left hand is great.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem