A Poem of Play by Me
The Face Dirtier is out there day after day,
He watches and waits until I go play.
I told my mum I would keep my face clean,
But he was waiting out there, hidden and unseen.
He was ready for mischief as I ran outside,
I couldn’t avoid him, ‘though I really tried!
In the puddle where I jumped,
There was mud that he dumped.
In the big tree that I climbed,
He left a bug trail; he slimed.
In the bushes where I scrambled
He left dirt on the brambles.
When I got home, my mum could see,
The ginormous mess he had made of me.
She laughed so much as she sent me to bath,
And giggled so hard as she cleaned my dirt path.
I don’t understand why grown-ups can’t see,
It’s the Face Dirtier who does it. It’s really not me!