The water in Carabacha

The water in Carabacha,

Flies from the tap rightatcha,

There’s no time to run, 

So you’re left looking dumb, 

And wishing that you could turn backcha.

A mad one

It’s been a mad one for sure,

It’s been far from a bore, 

But everything’s worked out well.

There were moments of dread,

And plants left unfed,

But we’ve many more stories to tell.

Heavy water

The water in the sky,

Is kuch heavier today,

It comes down in great shells,

In the form of endless rain.

The rain it crawls inside your shirt,

Then it strokes down all your hair,

And washes away any pesky dirt,

That may have been hiding there.

The chicken is headless…

The chicken is headless,

So it runs much faster,

It’s afraid of great speeds, 

But that fear it has mastered.

The chicken’s legs trundle,

And bump into many things,

But the clumsy headless chicken,

Never cries or sings.