Little Bobby

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Little Bobby, lovely boy,
Gives his parents naught but joy;
Does his homework, cleans his room,
Never gives a moment’s gloom.

But he has an awful secret,
And he really wants to keep it;
When his folks are busy working,
Little Bobby’s busy lurking.

With his parents on the run,
Little Bobby looks for fun;
Grand schemes Bobby plans and hatches,
How to get that pack of matches.

It started when he was a lad,
Hit his head and turned real bad;
Started setting little fires,
Barbeques and tiny pyres.

Adding things to feed the flame,
Pain and cruelty was his game;
He started just by adding sticks,
But soon Bob wanted bigger kicks.

Threw on mummy’s hallway table,
Just to prove that he was able;
Oops there goes the kitchen chair,
Something bigger, should he dare?

Books and letters, laundry peg,
Uncle Ernie’s wooden leg;
Bobby thinks he’s oh so witty,
Now he’s got his eyes on kitty.

All it takes is one small push,
Kitty goes up with a whoosh!
Spitting, meowing, fur a’flying,
Soon poor Kitty Cat is dying.

1 life, 2 life, 7 more,
But Kitty wants an even score;
5 lives, 6 lives, three to go,
Till we end this tale of woe!

But wait! With one life still remaining,
Kitty flees the fire, straining;
Freeing herself from the heat,
Landing upright on her feet.

Turns around and glares at Bob,
Snotty human, little yob;
With her tail she flicks the flame,
Skillfully she takes her aim.

Shoots it right at Bobby’s head,
Smiles, ‘cause Bob will soon be dead;
Little Bobby, Kitty’s bane,
Screaming louder, in real pain.

Most of Bob is badly burnt,
What a painful lesson learnt!
Little Bobby’s life is dire,
All because he played with fire!