I tried to eat an olive with a fork.
That was a mistake.
Forks are for cake,
And even better for pork.
The olive flew off my plate,
And under the chair.
By then it was too late,
It disappeared past the stair.
It rolled over each step,
And down to the floor,
Where my mum simply swept
It through the living room door.
In ran the cat,
Next came the dog.
They chased it round the mat,
Until it rolled past the frog.
The frog hopped towards it,
But the olive was fast,
The frog wouldn’t quit,
Till it got tired at last.
The olive rolled right
Past a hole in the wall.
It was quite a sight,
It didn’t slow down at all.
Until out zoomed a mouse,
With a bowl and a spoon.
The hole was his house,
It was dinnertime soon.
He scooped up the olive,
Right into his bowl,
Then a squeak he did give,
As he swallowed it whole.
