Little Jack Horner
His thumb plumping of pie:
he was soon stuck in. Once
you're a dunce, there's no taking
the mickey back. You must
stick in the class confessional,
twiddling in silence. Boy,
there is a certain snoot
in the smack of your lip:
the smug look on your pasty
face is glued to your mug
like a glaze. Are you plum
crazy? Remove your paws,
now. It's thumb insolence.