Sprouts and Beans
I hate brussel sprouts! I hate lima beans!
My mom says they're great. I don't know what she means.
'Cause I hate them! I hate them! I'd rather eat sand
or fire or gravel or a big rubber band.
I sit at the table refusing to swallow.
I don't care that my stomach feels empty and hollow.
I won't let those vegetables slide down my throat.
I'm no garbage disposal! I'm no billy goat!
I spread them out on my plate so it seems
that I've eaten some sprouts and I've tasted some beans.
But mom's much too smart to fall for my tricks.
I'll be sitting at this table till I turn 96!
She won't let me eat cake, or just leave the table
till I've cleaned my plate, but I swear I'm not able.
I don't want to make trouble or cause any scenes
but I hate brussel sprouts and I hate lima beans!
Where can I hide them? Oh what can I do?
Come over here Sparky, I'll give some to you.
No, he won't eat this, he's too picky for that.
(He looks like a dog, but he acts like a cat.)
I could hide them in the flowers, or stash them in my napkin.
I could do some pocket stuffin' or some really good cheek packin'.
I could slip them in my underwear, but that would feel too funny.
I'd give anything to leave this table - even all my money!
My mom is getting mad because my family's done with dinner.
They're watching Wheel of Fortune and I want to see the winner.
But I'll be stuck here at this table for the next three Halloweens.
I hate brussel sprouts and I hate lima beans!
(C) 1998, Arden Davidson
I am trying to find a publisher or agent
to represent any or all of the stories and poems
in "A Pocketful of Rhymes".
If you know anyone that can help, or have comments,
please e-mail me.Thanks!