The children

They would canoodle and swoodle
and oodle and boodle
and cajole and rumble
and fall
  
They’d get up and they’d play
and dance every which way
and entice everyone
each one and all
  
They would no doubt complain
when they’d suffer some pain
and bruises and oozes
and which
  
But they’d always get well
cos they’re mother would tell -
it’ll heal on its own
with no stitch
  
They’d forever be happy
and jolly and flappy
and funny and carefree
and young
  
for no matter the weather
they’d always be better
when they’d canoodle and swoodle 
and run.