The Thingy

There's a thingy that hides in my bag,

No one knows it is there but my dad.

He tells it to smile

At least for a while.

So I don't get cross and mad.

It really is quite an odd fellow,

Its feet are all smelly and yellow.

And deep there inside,

To my shock and surprise,

It waits till it's free and it bellows!

My dad says it's really my friend.

And it's in there just to help mend

My pencils and pens,

My ruler that bends

To not notice it I must pretend.

So the thingy just sits there and waits,

It tries to shout out to my mates.

But I cover it over

With my favourite pullover,

And it wriggles about which is great

But now it has learnt to behave

And all of my things it does save.

It even takes care

Of my brush filled with hair

And it's told me that its name is Dave.

By Gareth Lancaster ©2002