Evry nite at ten o’clox
I puts me branes into a bocks.
You sea, me branes keaps me awaik
With verry stupids thawt he maik.
He maik me thinks of thing so badd.
He maik me worry’s – I gose madd.
He maik me cries – me mind go sadd.
But when he owt – he maik me glad.
It wurk it good just likes it shood
I sleepy likes a logg of wood.
But tooday me sillee thing
Forgets too putt me branes bak inn!