One, Two, Three
Counting all and Phe
Make a total of eight
Hidden and out of sight
Bouncing around inside
This universal crazy ride
My eight kids causing a riot
Anarchist souls with red cordial diets
We can never tell a soul
Or tell and watch them repel
With thoughts of my bunch
Raising hell or such
Yet I love them all
No matter what comes on
Should I be committed?
I should think it makes sense
I'm a mother of sorts-
Caring for a group like this
To my bus of happy insanity:
My red cordial kids!
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