There's a sloth upon my couch,
This time it isn't me.
He slumps and grumps and munches snacks
While watching my tv.
His hair hangs like a floor mop,
His mouth can only mutter.
As through my food he snaffles,
All my bread and all my butter.
This sloth is really pushing it
He knows there are chores to do.
There's the dusting and the washing,
The bedrooms and the loo.
Shall I prod him carefully,
Shall I peel him off the couch?
I try to no avail though,
He simply mutters "ouch".
The lazy sloth is hoping
That his chores I will forget.
He can hope from here to forever
But forget them he'll regret.
I'm sure you all can sympathise,
You've had sloths of your own.
That teenage son who hangs about,
And does nothing round the home!
(although in fairness my resident teenager is a fab help around the home but I thought a poem saying that would simply not be believed!)
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