I’ve done nothing at all today
I just breathe and I eat and I pray
My mind is contemplative
And yet I’m inventative
Why did God make me this way?
I have written a poem, you demur
Is that work like cleaning cat’s fur?
I love little Minny
She scratches the sinners
Never ask me what my scars are
I have brushed all my hair I admit
Well,I can’t find that comb for the nits
I’ve got my dandruff shampoo
What is it that you do?
Gather it up bit by bit?
As we get older hair thins
And we cannot open our tins
But I love the privilege
I am jury and love a judge
I have a confession, I have sinned
