Poor Poor You There At Your Zoo!

The cat hears many are a singer. They are a poor poor me clinger. That song seems to get stuck in many a head. I guess it beats some Brady Bunch or Wheels on the Bus dread.


Poor poor me,
What can I do at my sea.
No one likes me.
Poor poor thee.

Got a hang nail.
Go ahead and wail.
But at least the finger nail is still there.
What? You weren't aware?

Stubbed your toe?
Oh no!
At least you have a toe,
And feeling in it to boot at your show.

Sat on a tack?
Damn, a nasty attack.
At least you can sit,
Well maybe not for a bit.

Car won't work?
That isn't a perk.
But at least you have one,
Even if it isn't fun.

Bills past due?
Boo hoo.
Let them suffer,
Give them an old stocking stuffer.

Can't eat this or that,
Or you'll be dead at your mat?
Then don't eat it,
Not hard, one bit.

Ran into a wall,
In a crowded hall?
Oh well.
At least you can walk to a wishing well.

Rely on the above well?
Better off just saying oh hell.
Or giving your coin to a kid,
Maybe you'll find a magic squid?

Poor poor you,
Got a bad review.
Whoopdi friggin doo,
25% of people will always hate you.

There you are at my sea. I know, such advice shouldn't be free. But no matter what you do, it always can be worse at your zoo. And 25% of people on the planet aren't going to like you no matter what. So don't waste time on them at your hut. Just mutter something crass and walk off, like my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.