Every child’s born divine,
Let’s please keep that in mind
As I tell you of young Brrine,
Covered in so much slime and grime
He looked to have gone and climbed
Out the chimney of a mine.
Brind was perfectly polluted.
Dumpsters stood up and saluted.
He never walked a pristine path,
His mind a mess of mucky math
On how to gain dull Sterile’s wrath –
Of course he’d never known a bath.
Bryn got grabbed by lucky lunge!
Into the soap and suds he plunged!
They scrubbed for days, weeks, on and on,
They drubbed his grubby gunk and grunge!
If you’ve followed all along
And are clever far beyond
These cleaner people then it’s dawned –
He was gone!
But he hadn’t been expunged.
Brn was now the filthy sponge!