His face ain't quaint,
It's peeling paint,
with brash moustache
that's bits of trash.
And when he blows
that dhimney nose
a sort of sooty slime fills his hankie, I suppose.
Cos firstly, lastly
ever so vastly
he's made of debris.
He's rubbly, pebbly,
soubly, trebly
bigger than you and me.
-Nick Toczek
