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Henry Trump is such a grump!

He always seems down in the dumps:

     Groaning, grizzling - face that’s long

     And everything in life seems wrong.

 

'Cheer him up?'  'Oh yes we’ve tried.'

'And did it help?'  'Oh no, he cried.'

     His life will never be worthwhile

     Until the day he starts to smile.

 

Frederick Fouche is such a grouch -

A laggard, loafer – yes, a slouch!

     His shirt is always hanging out,

     And on his face he wears a pout.

 

He never thinks to clean his shoes.

His manners – well, you can’t excuse.

     Comb his hair or wash his face?

     He’d rather disappear in space!

 

Percy Pore?  Well he’s a bore –

Soon you feel you want to snore.

    He’s drab, he’s dreary - so depressing

    An hour with him can be distressing.

 

It would not do them any harm

To try to please, amuse or charm.

    Well think of people we admire –

    When we’re with them we never tire.

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Copyright on all my poems

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