Gary’s guts were swooshing about all over the place.
And his farts were gross.
His face perspired and his eyes were wired;
All he wanted was a slice of dried toast.
But Gary couldn’t move,
His legs a weak jelly mess,
Whilst his hair was all lank
from his sticky cold sweats.
He starting wishing for his mum,
Whilst clenching his bum;
He’d never felt so bad in his life.
Gary collapsed to his knees,
Looked up with little ease,
And asked Suzie if she’d be his wife.
© Carl Burkitt 2013