Picture Courtesy: Pinterest
In the land of yore,
Lived a chap by the name Tim- More,
Dawn to dusk, all he did was,
Sleep on the ledge, laziness was solely the cause,
Ridiculed he was of his disease,
Upset by this was his mother, she was never at peace,
Useless, good for nothing, what not he was called,
But was he bothered? On the verandah he sprawled.
One day after much prodding and pestering,
He proceeded to fetch a pail of water, why was he made to do these mundane tasks, he kept fuming,
On his pet hen he mounted,
The number of steps it’d have taken to the well, he could have very well counted.
Far from being smooth,as they were nearing the well,
Stumbling on a stone, into the well they fell,
Did they come out?
Well that’s another story altogether, atleast he prayed he wouldn’t sprawl about,
Let’s hope he sees some sense, after all these years,
It’s never too late to improve, what say folks?