Y' ARE WAY past our ken, & your appalling calling:

My Lord, I loves “wasting time” with you;
part of me shoves ‘portant things to do
off to anoth-er time, it’s true.
But I can’t cov-er this up. I’m blue.

My “blue” is here, as a spe-cial sign,
that I do fear that you are not mine,
and I’m not yours, but a bastard child,
not loved, because your love's not that wild.

What god has done such a thing as this?
To have a son, and record it bliss
to bind oneself, and then keep one’s word;
to bring good health to such small absurd..

..and selfish pricks, like ugly bird chicks.
They say “stuff sticks”, we sure need your licks
to clean us off, both the food and poo -
what’s come from me, and what’s come from you!

Dribble, and spew, then there’s wee and poo
all comes from me. Now what comes from you?
Hugs, food and drink, and the cleaning up!
Smiles make us think that your love’s enough.

Your songs and sounds, articulation;
just being ‘round; some times dictation;
and snuggling up. Then your washing time,
and time to sup, makes life near sublime.

But most of all  is your creative
woo and call, that’s more than sate-ive,
colour and smell, and the lilt of tune.
You do things well! Y’ARE our WAY, and BOON!