Hannas Around The World
By Jonny Ballsac
Come gather here children,
sit under this tree,
I'm rubbing my Hannas,
with what I'll tell thee.
It seems there are witches,
who live in these woods,
their Hannas are crooked,
can't deliver the goods.
If the sky shall crumble,
and fall to the sea,
I've got two big Hannas,
I'll protect ye.
When Livingstone blows,
all hell shall break loose,
Fear not for my Hannas
clasp the golden goose.
Copyright © 2002; Irish Poetry Explosion. All Rights Reserved.