Whatever you do
Don’t eat the stew
Made by my mother
When she tries to feed you

It may smell delicious
And she’ll claim it’s nutritious
But it is the worst
Of all of her dishes

Worse than her skewered snake
Or her inside-out cake
Worse than any meal
She may try to make

You’ve heard the tall tale
Of my poor brother, Dale
He ate the stew and that night
He turned in to a snail

I can’t tell the story
Of our neighbor named Lori
Who once had a nibble
It is far too gory

While not taking a bite
May seem impolite
Your neck’s on the line
So shut your mouth tight

Trust when I say
You must stay away
If you’d like to live,
And see another day

So don’t eat the stew!
I’ll eat it for you
I’ve had it before
So I guess I’m immune.

Steady Eddie
Is always ready,
Whatever you might try.

You can’t push him down,
Knock him to the ground,
Or get him to lay or lie.

Just try to topple,
He’ll never stop, he’ll
Just keep getting up again.

You can push or pull,
It’s impossible,
He’ll be standing up straight in the end.

This may seem good, after all
Eddie never will fall
So he’ll never scrape his knees.

But it’s also a curse
Because what could be worse
Than having to stand when he sleeps!?!

What could I do,
Without you, my cobbler?
For, as a shoe,
I was but a hobbler.

All tied up with lace,
But somehow not whole,
‘Til I saw your face,
And you fixed my sole.

A beginning is little, but as it bears blossoms
It grows in to greatness, and makes it’s mark known

E’en tales told for ages, inspiring and awesome
Must start as seeds rooting, until they’re full grown