Boe-Jimminy’s Twig
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There once was a crooked brown twig,
That belonged to Boe-Jimminy Blig
Wherever he’d go,
It was certain that Boe,
Would carry this thing-a ma-jig.
In June on a Sunday at noon,
Boe-Jimminy met a baboon.
The critter laughed loudly,
And shouted out proudly,
“Boe-Jimminy—you’re a buffoon.”
" And I’ll tell you Boe-Jimminy Blig,
Only idiots carry a twig.
It isn't real cool,
And in fact you’re a fool,
With the brains of a half-witted pig.”
“Oh really!, I’m not!,” shouted Boe.
As he rattled his twig high and low.
“The things that I do,
Should mean nothing to you,
It is none of your business, you know.”
He went on to tell the baboon.
"I 'm certainly not a crazed loon.
The words that you’re blurting,
Are terribly hurting,
So you’d better skedaddle and soon.”
The baboon ran away in a blast,
He was running to nowhere real fast,
Mr. Boe had his way,
And could finally say,
"I'll relax and be happy, at last.
“I can carry a twig or a dish,
Or a flower or pancake or fish.
If it’s safe as could be,
Then it’s all up to me,
I can do with my life what I wish.”
MORAL: NEVER LET ANYONE ELSE DEFINE YOU.
