by Alan
(Northbrook, IL)
Little Sister
When I was little in the middle of my growing years
I’d never kiss my little Sis; instead, I’d pull her ears
She was so fat, a little brat, her nose was always dripping
She barely talked and when she walked, she was always tripping
Our dad would say,”Go out and play with your little sister
“No way,” I said; “Not today,” and yes I never missed her
She’d always try to be nearby when with my friends I’d wrassle
There was no rest from the little pest, my sis, the constant hassle
Time went by and Sis and I tried to have a truce
She grew quite tall, and all in all, she looked less like a moose
She got some bumps where girls get lumps and started wearing make up
Her nose stopped leaking like a hose and boys began to wake up
On the way from school one day, Bobby Beezer tried to tease her
And Robby Smits who had big zits used his hands to squeeze her
On speedy feet I crossed the street quicker than a cat
Bob and Rob couldn’t take the heat, like that, I knocked ‘em flat
Now I’m not lyin’, Sis was cryin’ as I held her close and said:
“Those punks are losers, real abusers, with air inside their heads”
I stopped her fears and dried her tears as we walked with one another
She whispered soft, a voice far off, “You are the best big brother”
She grew older and a little bolder as the months turned into years
I once mocked her; now she’s a doctor who treats infected ears
Yes, time has flown and now were grown, and I’ll tell you something mister
You can bet each chance I get, I always kiss my sister
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