The Rhyming Poem
Created | Updated Mar 8, 2005
Will came home at ten past nine,
And found the Poem waiting there.
He gave a little frightened whine,
When he saw the Poem on his chair.
The Poem began to make a sound,
The Poem had started to speak.
Will heard this and he frowned,
His knees were feeling weak.
What the Poem said was this:
"I'm the Poem That Rhymes."
Then it gave a horrid hiss,
"I like eating limes."
Will's limbs were unable to move,
As he tried to stop the Rhyme.
The Poem started to do its groove,
As it munched on its lime.
The lime was juicy and green,
The Poem devoured the skin.
Will thought this very mean,
Then he began to feel quite thin.
As the Poem ate the fruit,
Will was feeling very weak.
The Poem gave a happy hoot,
Then started on the leak.
Will's life was ebbing away,
There was nothing he could do.
The Poem was eating all the day,
And Will felt like Dr Who.
The Poem ate everthing he had,
And even ate the metal sink.
Will could still not move,
He could hardly think.
When the Poem ate the china plate,
The Poem had eaten much too much.
The Poem was now feeling unwell,
It was looking far too Dutch.
The Poem was getting very very big,
But it had no more rhyming words.
So the Poem burst and became a wig,
For Will to wear and get the birds.
There is a moral to this odd tale,
About Will and the Poem That Rhymes.
The moral is to give the poem kale,
When it says it likes eating limes.
And found the Poem waiting there.
He gave a little frightened whine,
When he saw the Poem on his chair.
The Poem began to make a sound,
The Poem had started to speak.
Will heard this and he frowned,
His knees were feeling weak.
What the Poem said was this:
"I'm the Poem That Rhymes."
Then it gave a horrid hiss,
"I like eating limes."
Will's limbs were unable to move,
As he tried to stop the Rhyme.
The Poem started to do its groove,
As it munched on its lime.
The lime was juicy and green,
The Poem devoured the skin.
Will thought this very mean,
Then he began to feel quite thin.
As the Poem ate the fruit,
Will was feeling very weak.
The Poem gave a happy hoot,
Then started on the leak.
Will's life was ebbing away,
There was nothing he could do.
The Poem was eating all the day,
And Will felt like Dr Who.
The Poem ate everthing he had,
And even ate the metal sink.
Will could still not move,
He could hardly think.
When the Poem ate the china plate,
The Poem had eaten much too much.
The Poem was now feeling unwell,
It was looking far too Dutch.
The Poem was getting very very big,
But it had no more rhyming words.
So the Poem burst and became a wig,
For Will to wear and get the birds.
There is a moral to this odd tale,
About Will and the Poem That Rhymes.
The moral is to give the poem kale,
When it says it likes eating limes.
