Oh raisin how I hate thee with your brown and puckered skin
The way my children find nooks and crannies to hide you in
Why are you so tiny? No bigger than a pea?
You end up squished and stamped on a slipper worn by me
Underneath the kitchen table is where you most like to lurk
Or tucked away neatly in the posh bag I use for work
Sometimes I find you in a corner just quietly lying there
I've also found you hidden deep, stuck into my dogs hair
You truly are the king of snacks, of that we all agree
You help our children's hunger, stay far away till tea
But why do you not stay in their mouths or even in your box?
Oh raisins how I hate thee. Quite frankly you can...do one.