Cecil was a three-toed sloth, he ate a lot of leaves,

And sometimes found a beehive full of honey;

Cecil lived a happy life, except for just one thing:

Every time he talked it sounded funny.

“Hi, I’m Thethil the three-toed thloth!” he’d say and make a bow,

whenever someone new would venture near;

and he had lots of visitors, they called round all the time,

cos Cecil’s words were what they liked to hear.

“Thank you for the thcarlet thcarf, I think ith very nyth”

(His visitor would laugh under his breath)

“How come every prethent I rethieve from vithitorth

ith thomething that mutht alwayth thtart with eth?”

“You’d think I’d get thum thimpathy, but I can thee their game,

athide from thtopping by to thay good day;

they think that thiopping for thum things that thtart with letter eth

will give me theveral thententheth to thay…”

“I never get a handkerchief, I alwaith get thum thockth,

thum chocolate would be good, but thadly, no…

They thiower me with thethamee theedth and thpythee thothage thlitheth,

I thank them for the prethenth, then they go.”

“If only I could find a friend who wouldn’t find it weird

the way my teeth and tongue are in a meth;

we’d have thuch fun and hang around and never, ever talk,

and, if we did, we’d never mention eth!”

more of my FUNNY POEMS here