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I wrote this poem years ago for my kids, they always enjoyed it and the Goldfish, who was a much more tolerable pet than the mice. [an error occurred while processing this directive]


My Googly Eyed Goldfish

Its a wet- wet -wet -dark Sunday,
I'm standing at my sink.
I'm looking at my Goldfish,
What does my goldfish think?

Does he remember days,
days when he was bold
and lived beside the boatshed,
where it was dark and cold?

The lady from the petshop,
her name is Harriet.
She spied my little goldfish
and caught him in her net.

She put him in a glass jar,
took him to her shop.
I bought him there last Friday night,
he cost me quite a lot.

Now he swims in my glass bowl,
I feed him everyday.
He watches me with googly eyes,
and hears everything I say.

Copyright; Pauline Skerman
Email: [email protected]



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