And she's got a voice like a braying donkey,
And an accent that's so broad that you feel afraid
You must look really fat, whenever she starts speaking.
Just imagine that your inner child is dead common
And not very bright.
And when she starts seeking attention,
You know she's bound to show you up
Because she's absolutely desperate to mention
All the things you do that don't really seem very nice,
In the light of day,
(Though you could justify them to yourself privately.)
Just imagine that she's not quite right,
She has no sensitivity,
She tends to waddle and has one sock that will never stay up.
Just imagine she's always a bit snotty,
That she wets the bed
And smells of pee,
But never has a shower.
Just imagine your inner child, is not some creative,
Ethereal, angelic, lovely, golden girl,
Not some Elysian flower
Or sugar and spice,
All kind and clever,
Not some exquisite, rare pearl,
That she's very much like the small, fat, grotty
Creature you actually used to be.
Then ground her forever.