Not-So-Sweets for
Less Sweet Kids


Granny has a bristly chin,
I hope that she won’t kiss me.
But if she tries I’ll move my head
and hope her kiss will miss me.


Last year when I was very small
and Daddy was so very tall
I only saw the hair that grows
through the end of Daddy’s nose.
But now when Dad sits on my bed
or snoozes in his big armchair
I can see a patch of head
poking through a ring of hair.

This patch the source, I now suppose,
of hair which grows down through his nose.


When I was one
my sister was fun.
At two and three
she played with me.
But now I’m four
she locks her door
and tells me to bugger off.

Martin Parker

If you have any comments on this poem, Martin Parker would be pleased to hear from you.