Dads Onesie

Would it be so bad,
To see my dad,
Happily clad,
In a onesie - Erm maybe a tad.
My mum would think he was high,
My brother cry,
And I would undoubtedly die!
The neighbours would complain,
Think we were insane,
And move a mile down our lane.
Our local police would come,
Have a serious talk with mum,
And guess he had too much rum.
He would be locked up in a mental house,
Wishing that his onesie - in the shape of a mouse,
Would materialise into a charming blouse...

Maybe I should keep my thoughts to my self,
Don't want to cause you any bad health.