Wits, Whims, and Wicked Kids Poetry for Children: A Cure for School

From the author:

From the Author:

I will not introduce myself.
I will not ask "How do?"
I will not wave, I will not bow,
Or shake a hand with you.

For I am not polite, my friend;
I have no social grace.
Like you, I have no manners,
And I never learned my place.

Instead I'll write a poem
And I'll put myself in verse,
And if you like the sound of me,
Well, THEN we might converse.

So read a line or two of me,
Or don't, if it's a chore,
But since you've read fifteen of me
I bet you'll read one more.

Click here to contact the author
(...or don't...he doesn't really trust emails from children. They can be sticky).

I've boarded the bus;
my brother has not.
He's sick and at home,
but look what I've got.

This tonic will cure you

of school and its pains.

The trick's in the stuff

this concoction contains:

Some sweat from my brother,

the spit from his sneeze

the phlegm from his hanky,

the snot on his sleeve,

Stirred-up together

in bottles to sell--

One sip and I promise

You're feeling unwell.