The Boy Poem by George Savige
The Boy
His pockets full
Of strangest things,
There's nuts and bolts
And bits of string.
He'll spend some time
At prodding toads,
Or saving things
He finds on roads.
... He's a boy.
He'll go and climb
The highest tree,
And call to dad,
'Hey look at me.'
Then to the ground
He'll quickly slide.
There's one thing that
You cannot hide,
... He's a boy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 8:14:42 AM # 1.0.0.1119
