Leggings - the buzz of the evening poem... silly stuff.
Better watch out,
better take care,
those awful theives kids are out to scare...
childish inventions, sweet smiles, galore,
while the parents hide behind locked doors...
better watch out, better take care,
they'll have you locked up,
won't let on you live anywhere...
"You'll go far!" exclaimed one Mother,
her voice dripping rich treacle...
as she ran her finger down the side of the airborne vehicle...
"So well trained, and so changed,
your own Mothers wouldn't recognise you..."
Her smile an acolade, as she paved;
a little sin into the mixing tin.
"Santa will soon be coming in,"
said a boy with a limpet grin.
"Aye, so, so," agreed the Mother
as she totted up the costs, of getting her children out to work,
against the loss of not getting the stock,
handed over the side,
It gritted over the teeth,
she fretted, the loss of the loss of the free ride.
"Better watch out!, Better take care!"
she told the children with a cold stare,
"What we don't pick up, we won't have to share!
On Christmas day in the morning..."
"I told them what you told me," objected the boy,
as he imagined his favourite toy,
"I told her she didn't live here, she gets in our way,"
The woman nodded, her eyes bright and sharp,
her voice, the crows shriek, against his harp
"Keep it up, we must discredit her, until she's gone..."
"Like snow on a sunny morning," suggested the boy,
"or like rain when it peters out?" A ploy
destined to fall short, "Nay," said the Mother grim,
"Lets make it forever, and we can move on to the next job!"