My big brother writing about (little) me

My love'ed siblings and I on the farm

When my eldest big brother was twelve years old he wrote a poem about me for school. I would have been seven years old (tee hee).

Bree

I’d like to tell you of my sister Bree
who’s always been a little crazy you see
Dad says she comes from Mum’s side of the group,
Mum points out that Dad’s Aunt was a kook.

Her dark brown skin is and dry as a bone
and her wreathing blonde hair has a life of its own,
She’s got a pointy nose and daring brown eyes
And a smell so high that it literally flies.

Just the other week, I think
she stuffed seven goldfish down the sink.
Shaun’s Tiger Moth went with them too
And anything else went down the loo.

She trampled all mums flowers flat,
and then when she felt inwardly happy with that,
she tried to pour acid on next door’s cat,
which nearly gave mum a heart attack.

She broke eighteen windows in all last year
and aims to double that I fear.
She turned Grandad’s headphones on full blast
and put whiskey in dad’s coffee flask.

No one knew how long she could last,
we had to do something pretty fast.
Then she then she did something really bad
and that got dad steaming mad!

She smashed a hole in the bedroom wall
which is now joined directly to the hall,
Dad picked her up and took her out the back
and gave her a real tremendous whack!

She had never been whacked before in her life,
and it must have given her one hell of a fright,
Jumping around with a bruised rear end
she vowed never to be bad again.

Now she acts normal, amazing but true
she doesn’t flush animals down the loo
she doesn’t turn earphones on full blast
she doesn’t put whiskey in dad’s coffee flask.

She just acts like a normal little girl,
with a dress all prosy and her hair brushed well
but somewhere inside the beast still lurks
And one of these days she’s gonna go beserk!