5-5 In Which Mr. Snow Becomes My Fan

I am a monkey,
in a cage,
there is poop in my hand.

this is a poem,
which rhymes,
and repeats.

I am a monkey,
in a cage,
there is poop in my hand,
it smells bad.

this is a poem,
which rhymes,
and repeats,
and retreats.

I am a monkey,
in a cage,
there is poop in my hand,
it smells bad,
so I fling it,

this is a poem,
which rhymes,
and repeats,
and retreats,
several times,

I am a monkey,
in a cage,
there is poop in my hand,
it smells bad,
so I fling it,
wing it,
at my number one fan.

this is a poem,
which rhymes,
and repeats,
and retreats,
several times,
because I am.