A teddy bear's age we might guess
by signs of quite ultimate stress.
While young bears might gleam some,
the oldsters may seem some
to have deep despairs to confess.

From my photo not all bears are gold,
Though some get incredibly old,
With frayed paws & feet,
Their stuffing once neat,
Hangs in patches from hides that were bold.

No teddy bear (naked or clad)
is likely to feel very sad.
A teddy's main pleasure
derives in large measure
from love that might never turn bad.

I am so sorry to disagree,
A naked bear is better for me,
They shouldn't be dressed
Not even a vest
To cover the fur, gold & cuddly.

A teddy bear likes to have clothes
Being a bare bear's what he loathes
His little bare bot
Needs a culotte
He swears to his need with some oaths.

Each teddy bear purchased brings glee
to all of the doldrums in me.
I perch such a teddy
upon my bye-beddy,
then notice what glory may be.

At auctions we buy lots of bears
A teddy to hug cures all cares,
Their expresions may vary,
From happy to scary,
We do sell quite a few at our fairs.

In school I took all my own tests
yet still was the worst of all pests.
I bothered my teachers
by owning strange features
that suited few gentle behests.

At girl at a school was in trouble
For exams she employed a double
Her cover was blown
And she had to atone
But nothing could burst that girl's bubble.

Some words I employ keep me kidding
my chances of doing your bidding.
A rather old goat,
I seemingly dote
on concepts in need of good breeding.

A goat that is female's a nanny
To humans a nanny is granny
A child is a kid
A billy has a lid
But it hides in each hill's nook and cranny.

Life married or single is hard,
as everything really is marred.
We like easy breathing,
yet Nature keeps teething
till spinach resembles tough chard.

The rough hurly-burly of life
Causes wed people much strife
You're right on the skids
When along come the kids
With problems for husband and wife.

Young folk in deep love may rise early
and never appear very surly.
As lovers gain age
they find ~all the rage~
ignoring life's rich hurly-burly.

When we are young and in love
We're as close as a hand in a glove
But young love is fickle
Though sharp as a prickle
It soon flies away like a dove.

There once were a girl and a boy,
each ready to jump for pure joy.
He gave her fine kisses,
and she proffered blisses,
and -- O! -- how the world seemed a toy!

As cricket involves sticky wickets
my life is a bastion of thickets.
I leap out of bed,
rebang my thick head,
then cry for some dear little prickets.

Cricket is a game that is slow
Less exciting than watching grass grow
In between each whack
Everything is so slack
While awaiting the fielder's next throw

When baseball achieves fever pitch,
its icons seem utterly rich.
My moments of umping
would surely keep clumping
the sounds of an infinite glitch.

My baseball team's players are jokers
I'd like to attack them with pokers
Pulled hot from the fire
To show them my ire
I'm gagging while watching those chokers

Conveyed by grand cars or fine boats,
we often are feeling our oats.
When I'm on a mule, though,
I sense I'm a fool, though
such jouncings outshine root beer floats.

My car gets ten gallons per mile
(That's gallons of sweat: makes me rile!)
On water I row it
On land I must tow it
While horsing around in fine style

A truck with a very old motor
had me as a very deep doter.
I liked that old heap
because it could keep
resilience as part of each rotor.

A car with a paint job appalling
Insisted on now and then stalling
For it was a loner
Who hated its owner
For the trailer it always was hauling.

Whatever we nurture or try,
the sky always is perfect sky.
Augmented by powers,
life's given endowers
continue to scarf apple pie.