Poem

My daughter is required to write a poem for tomorrow about a child’s favourite thing. She’s demanded I should do it for her. I’ve said I won’t, but have written this to hold in reserve:

Oh, you can love the telly,
Or to look at trees.
But, thinking of my belly,
What I love is cheese.

O Beautiful, beautiful cheese:
One sniff and I’m weak at my knees,
And I cry: “Kind Sir, if you please,
A pound of mature cheddar cheese!”

So you can love your jelly,
Your coffee and your teas,
And I will fill my belly
Every day with cheese.

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