From the mouths of babes

Plastic dolls

My daughter’s dolls have got no clothes
I’m trying not to freak
And when I ask her why
She smiles
and makes the wretches speak

I do not like the clothes I have
They really ain’t for me
OK I say to placate her (them?)
Yet she continues this ventriloquy

It’s all the pink and gold she pines
I don’t like it never have
It’s what they sell in the shops I share
Well they should sell more choice – she says – Daaaaad!

 

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