Nonsense I

Nonsense I

Seven deadly wives for seven deadly newts.
Seven jealous pairs of shoes.
Seven hungry clouds in chorus,
Seven forests can't remember what they had for breakfast.
Give me all of these things by Christmas next year,
Wrapped in a special bow,
Because these are my favourite things.
Seven ample cinderblocks
Seven chairs with things written on them
Seven walls that only go one way
Seven drinks a thief would take to party
Give me none of these things by Christmas next year,
These are not my favourite things.
Seven nuggets of stone
Seven thoughts of a lonely stoat
Seven crumbling iglus
Seven diseases that only come on a Thursday
Give me some of these things by Christmas next year.
I like some of these things.