Dentures

As we grow old our bodies change,
They alter, shrink and re-arrange,
Our hair goes grey, our bums they drop,
With dentures our jaws we have to prop.

Dentures are such handy things,
They thtop uth thpeaking in thith way,
Without them food we’d have to suck,
In the art of pulling we’d have no luck.

We pop them in a glass at night,
To wake and see them would give a fright,
To some poor soul you happen upon,
Drag to your bed and jump right on.

Liz