The Worm (Continued)

The Worm (Continued)

“I’m Graeme Sandford…

and I’ve written a poem

all about a worm

who loved to squirm all the day;

until a bird ate him up.”

The Worm Poem

Worms don’t have names

such as Sidney or Alice;

they don’t get knighted,

meet the Queen at the Palace;

never have pen-friends in France or Brazil;

and, obviously, don’t write poems;

but, one day, one will.

Until then, I shall help to write one for them.

A worm, bored with just having to squirm all day,

decided to go on a holiday;

he packed his bags,

locked all the doors,

left a key with neighbours,

and wriggled away

to try foreign shores.

Reaching the end of the garden,

he asked a passing crow:

“I beg your pardon!

Could you please tell me the way I should go?”

The crow, on the lookout for this kind of thing,

quickly ate up the worm,

and started to sing –

which, as it was a crow…

well, there is nothing

quite as annoying

as a crow trying to sing.

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7 responses to “The Worm (Continued)

  1. Ha! Delightfully ridiculous! 😊😊😊

  2. Poor worm…. But what a holiday!

    Thank you dear G, Love, nia

  3. Ha ha, a lovely little wormy poem. 😀

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