He sat there fair hair falling in a long and floppy fringe,

looking bored and really fed up, wondering if he dared to whinge.

Sat on an upright dining chair, expected to be good,

he wondered what would happen if he spontaneously stood.

With nothing there to play with, his itchy nose seemed key

to relieve him of his boredom, so he set his fingers free.

His right nostril was the nearest one, he poked until he got

a crusty bit and strung to it, a solid piece of snot.

Examining its texture, he thought he'd maybe lick it 

but the colour put him off a bit so he rolled it up and flicked it.

As grandma's friend's cat snarled at him, he managed to recover

from a smirk and snort that covered up, he'd gone and flicked another.

That nostril had then given up its cache of sticky treasure,

so he rooted up the other side to continue with his pleasure.

A glowing glob of watery green ran down along his palm,

too wet to roll, too puce to eat, he kept so still and calm.

He glanced around the quiet room to see where they were at

and quietly and happily, he wiped it on the cat.

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