Regrets

Last night I just couldn’t get to sleep.

I tossed and turned all night,

cause Santa Claus is coming soon,

which fills me with great fright.

You see, I’ve done some things this year

that now — I sure regret,

and thinking of those things I’ve done

is making me now fret.

I think I’ll write to Santa Claus

and tell him I feel sad

about the rotten things I’ve done

which I know now were bad.

I shouldn’t have said that certain word!

I shouldn’t have tripped those kids!

I shouldn’t have wrecked Mom’s dinner

loos’ning salt and pepper lids.

I shouldn’t have hidden in the shed

to scare my dad and mom,

and putting worms in Ashley’s shoes

was nothing short of dumb.

I shouldn’t have brought my frog to church!

I shouldn’t have set him free!

I shouldn’t have laughed when Freddy

hopped upon that lady’s knee!

I’ll tell St. Nick I’m changing.

I’ll do things folks will like.

I’ll tell him it’s a promise IF —

he’ll just bring me that bike!

The Missing Bone

My dog has dug a great, big hole;

he wants to hide his bone.

His tail is wagging happily —

he thinks that he’s alone.

I see him drop his bone inside;

he thinks it won’t be found.

But I intend to take that bone

when Spotty’s not around.

Soon Spot will dig the garden up

just looking for his treat.

He’ll dig and search and search and dig

which really will be neat!

Cause my mom has some work for me

and there will be no pardon.

She said this coming Saturday —

I have to dig the garden!

The Lonely Meatball

One meatball sits upon my plate,

a lonely, little guy.

His meatball friends have gone away;

I’ll bet he knows not why.

The noodle hill was washed right down

by my huge glass of milk.

The sauce was sure the deepest red,

so rich — and smooth as silk.

This meatball is the lucky one;

he doesn’t have to die;

cause if I eat this meatball now,

I won’t have room for pie.

The Hunt

Nancy has the meanest dog;

they tell me he broke free,

and that the rotten flea-bag

is hunting now for me.

You see, I am the paper-boy

who tries to do his best,

but it really isn’t my fault

that rotten dog’s obsessed.

I must deliver papers

before the hour of eight,

and when I get to Nancy’s,

I see the dog I hate.

He barks and growls hysterically

the whole time I am there.

His leash is my salvation,

but he gives me quite a scare.

So I quickly throw the paper,

cause I know he wants me dead,

but it really isn’t my fault,

it keeps landing on his head.

The Doubter

There was a boy who liked to doubt

whatever teachers talked about.

He doubted two and two was four;

he doubted three and three was more.

He raised an eyebrow when he heard

the ostrich is the biggest bird.

He disbelieved that some squirrels fly;

he said it was a great big lie.

He doubted that the world was round;

he doubted what Columbus found.

He said that science was so phoney,

and that teachers talked baloney.

Years later, this boy still sits there,

doubting what is round or square.

He may have doubted just for fun,

but he’s still sitting in grade one.

The Sleepwalker

My brother sleepwalks every night,

but something bout it isn’t right.

The doctor says we must not try

to interfere — I don’t know why.

The sleeping boy, just looking fine,

escapes his bed each night at nine

and to the TV he will go

and always finds a favourite show.

He then will get potato chips,

(I see the sly smile on his lips!)

My mother says, “Sssshhhh — let him be.”

He has her fooled, it seems to me.

He’ll eat those chips and watch his show

while off to bed I’m forced to go.

But last night as I tried to sleep,

into my head a plan did creep.

I’m sick of watching that kid munch

the only food I love a bunch.

So I intend to get my share

cause after all — it’s only fair!

Therefore, tonight, my folks will see

a little change occur in me.

Yes, they’ll observe, when it is late,

to sleepwalk is a family trait.