‘Stead of sayin’, “Pass the peas,”
Richard reached across and grabbed some.
‘Stead of whisperin’, “Lamb chops, please,”
Richard poked his for and stabbed one.
‘Spite his father’s warnin’ words,
‘Spite his mother’s tearful teachin’,
With each grab his arm did grow
‘Til it stretched twenty yards or so.
Said Richard, “Yes, it’s weird, I know,
But boy, it’s great for reachin’.”
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