Chris Said Atchoo!

The Wind was all stable, at the picnic table

The Lizards earth’s boos, who always appeared and shewed

Ran around like a petting zoo, through the Kentucky grasses blue

Chris said Atchoo!

He gave the thing he sipped

A grip

Opened the tip

And with a way that skipped

He let out his atchoo drips

Against the minor breeze

He accompanied his splashes

With a fake sounding sneeze

In order to tease

His sisters with ease

No doubt his atchoo’s were loud

No doubt his bottle drips found the ground,

Needless to say he was “Atchoo Bound”

Hey atleast the Flowers didn’t drown