The Boy again, refuses to clean his teeth

Hiding toothbrush and paste underneath

Him, as he lay in his bed, as though made of led.

He hoped they all may think him dead.

His father demanded he obey his mother,

But for him, being bad was no bother.

She warned, he would lose his teeth

And also the tooth roots beneath.

He payed no attention, and they did rot;

And so very bad breath he’s got,

And can no longer chew his chips,

Only baby food now, passes his lips.