A Bedtime Poem

There once was a boy named Greg

He danced with only one leg

He played jacks and cards and raced his cars

And on weekends he had to beg

His father, he had no job

And was often in a drunken fog

He held a sign on the streets and asked for treats

While Greg looked sad with his dog

Greg's sister, her name was Beth

She stayed swaddled to her mummys breast

She was only a doll but no one ever saw

That her eyes were glassy like death

Now I'm sure if you saw them you'd pass

And say something to make yourself sound like an ass

But while you're judging Greg's dad and his mum and his dog

And you assume Greg's dad lives in a drunken fog

You hope his mum breastfeeds her doll

You should know that Greg goes hungry to bed

And cries 'cause he can't itch his phantom leg

While you're comfy at home wrapped up in your shawl.