Don’t tickle me in the morning,
Don’t tickle me after lunch,
Don’t tickle me after breakfast,
Or even after brunch,
Don’t tickle me underneath my arms,
And especially not my feet,
Please don’t tickle me anywhere,
‘cos then I’m not so sweet.
Don’t tickle me with a feather,
Don’t tickle me with a stick,
Don’t try to tickle me slowly,
And never tickle me quick.
You can ask me why I’m laughing,
Its not because its fun,
Its just a strange reaction,
And not a willing one.
Tickling is annoying,
I hate it cant you see?
So take your tickly fingers
And keep them far from me!
Don’t tickle me in the bedroom,
Don’t tickle me in the lounge,
I’ll never let you do it,
No matter how you scrounge.
And if you try to tickle me,
When I am fast asleep,
And your itchy tickling fingers
To yourself you do not keep,
Do not blame me if I lash out,
A slap or a kick maybe,
‘cos I have already warned you,
do not tickle me!
So heres the end of my poem,
Of an absence of tickling plea,
I don’t know why I don’t like tickling,
I suppose its just ‘cos that’s me.
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