Happy Thursday

When I was growing up, I got several warts on my hands.  I had to go to the doctor to get them burned off.  Most kids I talk to today don't even know what warts are, but here is a silly poem about them.

WART SHOP

My uncle sells warts from his shop

Says business is good—he’ll never stop.

Round ones, fat ones,

Green ones, flat ones,

Ittsy-witsy small ones,

Skinny, smelly tall ones,

Bumply, rumply, some are slimy,

Uncle sells warts that are even spiny.

Warts from frogs, witches and cats,

Dogs and hogs and even bats.

Warts from eyes and tails and wings,

But who would ever want these things?