A Sunday lunch with all the trimmings.
Stuffing, tatties, gravy’s brimming.
It smells so good; it smells so yummy.
Delicious food-get in my tummy!
But what’s those green things, round and small?
I don’t like them! No, not at all!
I’ll eat the white trees if I must,
And orange sticks, oh I’m not fussed.
A pudding with a gravy puddle,
Warms my tummy like a cuddle.
But green things, no they don’t belong.
Mum says, “but they will make you strong!”
I won’t eat peas or runner beans,
Or broccoli or yucky greens.
And if Mum makes me eat a sprout,
I’ll have no choice…
But spit it out.