[Inspired by a conversation with Lyra, 3]
There’s a little man inside my feet
Who tells me where to go.
‘Turn left’ I ask him nicely
But he answers simply ‘no’.
He turns me right and walks me
At a quite alarming pace,
To the shop that’s full of lollipops
(It’s quite my favourite place).
‘Come back!’ My Mummy calls me,
I can tell she’s not impressed,
But I’m standing rooted to the spot
Deciding which sweet’s best.
I don’t mean to be naughty and
Ignore my mother’s cries.
It makes her really angry
I can see it in her eyes.
But the little man inside my feet
Has other plans for me,
When I say left then he says right,
It’s not my fault you see?
So Mummy please forgive me
When my wandering makes us late,
It’s the little man inside my feet
That you need to berate.