It's a different world
since babbo's gone
that dear Geppetto
who would rub my joints
with linseed oil
now that I have no one
to run away from
I spend too much time
here on the bench
my legs grown stiff
as boards
perhaps I'd have done better
had I been a real puppet
with strings
and someone wiser than myself
to work them
of course I'd have missed out
on all the great
adventures that I'm famous for
not to complain
but if the stiffness in my limbs
weren't bad enough
my nose has grown
longer of late
no doubt it has to do
with writing poems
but tell me
how else is an old blockhead
like me to pass the time?