He thought he would slip under the radar,
And no one would smell a ‘rat’ ;
But he isn’t very clever, you see,
Coz every morning, he leaves behind a trail of crap.

At first I thought he might be a cute fledgling,
Who’s gnawing and chewing because he’s teething ;
But he seems to have a mature taste,
On a detergent bar, he wouldn’t dare his buds waste.

A metrosexual male that he is,
Only a fruity, flowery soap would do ;
To keep his bowels velvety smooth,
Rinse his interiors and soften and scent his poo.

Does he lick the wall paint,
or more abominably, eat his own shiite ?
Does he sneak a snack of chalk,
Or devour some teeth chattering crushed ice ?

Is there a bloodsucking hookworm lurking in his guts,
Or does he have tingling and numbness and bones that are weak ?
Is he suffering from separation anxiety,
Or is it a companion that he longs for and desperately seeks ?

If you, my dears, see a mouse roaming,
With bubbles from his mouth foaming ;
Do not scream and get a load of wrinkles,
Instead, just keep calm and give us a tinkle.

We’ll load him with iron and pump him with calcium,
And put him on some counselling and therapy ;
We’ll even register him on a wedding dot com,
Find him a beautiful wife and yell ‘whoopee !’