Magpie Child

There you are randomly pecking away.
It’s my Magpie Child, sorting her prey.
Bottle top, wrapper, something out of place,
Nothing’s unimportant, junk’s to your taste.
Spotting the out of ordinary.
Tasting it, eugh, is that necessary?
Try and really think about what you do,
Are you eating all sorts of animal pooh?

Watching you look at the bits that you find,
It’s see-through joy, it’s a shame we’ve become blind.
All your finds you clearly treat like pure gold.
If I were your toys, I think I would be sold.
Seeing all this pleasure your gold can give,
I’ll save some things from the bin, let them live.
You do bring life to everything you touch,
It’s one of the reasons we love you so much.

Mama Grace

Picking Green Crust

I’m forever picking bogies out of your nose,
I don’t even know how you would make all of those.
So give me a break, let me get the green crust out.
It’s harder when you wave your arms and head about.
I’m only getting them to make room for more,
Believe me, I’d rather they just fall to the floor.
Just one of many gross things to do till you’re able,
It would be nice if you could keep your head stable.

Mama Grace

Try not to put your hand in your own pooh.

Try not to put your hand in your own pooh,
It means an intensive clean if you do.
I mean have you seen this smelly brown stuff?
Even the pong for animals is enough.

A dog doesn’t put his paw in his pooh,
He’d then scratch his fur and smell of the loo.
Who would come near you if you did the same?
You couldn’t play and that would be a shame.

The lion would never use his claw,
If he put that in his mouth, he wouldn’t roar.
Why that smelly brown stuff would make him sick.
The king of the jungle isn’t thick.

Even the timid mouse won’t touch his pooh,
If he does, when he eats, what will he do?
Eek, how would he put his paw in his food?
He’d go hungry and be in a bad mood.

The bunny rabbit won’t hop into it,
He knows he would then sit and smell of it.
Wherever he sits it would smell the same,
Moving pooh around is not a good aim.

Mama Grace