Lives

Statues stand very still,
A life that must be a thrill,
They’re made of stone of brass or gold,
Some of them are very old.

I’m not really like one of these,
I’m much more active if you please,
I like to run and skip and jump,
I love to read “Stig of the Dump”.

Another life that I will study,
Is the life of a pig, who likes getting muddy,
They roll around in dirt and poo,
They always get filthy,
More than me or you.

I’m not a pig, I’m far too clean,
(Only because my mums real mean),
Neither do I live in a sty,
Or face rumours of being able to fly.

The final life that I will do,
Is the noisy life of a cookoo,
They live in clocks, behind a door,
Constantly jumping out - Their life is not a bore,
I can’t think what I could want to be more,

(apart from maybe an old oak door)