O Peter boy, your pipes, your pipes, they call me
From room to room and from the garden too.
It's 2am and as I rise, I'm sighing.
It's you, it's you must poo, and I must cry.
You call me back when I am in the other room.
Or when you think I've moved a touch too slow.
'Tis I'll be here in daylight or in darkness.
O Peter boy, O Peter boy, I love you so.
(to the tune of O Danny Boy)
2 comments:
oh! my! goodness! this is SO painfully funny! i am wiping tears of laughter/compassion/PTSD out of my eyes! shall i "kneel and say an 'ave' there" for you? :)
We called him Peter Piper for good reason. It isn't so shocking now that he is bigger but as a newborn--oh my!
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