Happy Tamed ‘Fro

Canerow, chiny-bumps
Tiny plaits, do-do plaits
In one, in two, in three
Sitting between mummy’s knees
Eyes moist, face pained
As she combed from the roots
Extracted your brain
Curious about what’s on top
You reach up
Boi!!!
You get a chop.
“Don’t touch, I soon stop”.
You pray to the Bergamot God
That it’s a good job
With bobbles and bows
And neat little rows
Of Happy Tamed ‘Fro.