Arms akimbo by the road
Standing steady with their load;
Holding up their miles of words,
And a host of tired birds.
Humming softly as they work,
On their team one cannot shirk;
With our thoughts they play relay,
Never resting night or day.
Every secret they all know,
When we call in rain or snow;
But 'til someone hears our ring,
They won't tell a single thing.
They are soldiers like the rest,
Serving nations with their best;
Messages that they release,
May launch wars or signal peace.
They stand on duty in a line,
Helping everyone in time;
Serving nobly in their roles,
Proud and stately telephone poles.
JOHNNY ONE-HOPTHE TWO FINGER MAN
Johnny One-Hop is a funny little man,
Made of two fingers of Daddy's big hand;
One leg is short, the other is quite long
He walks with a hop, and is very strong.
When Iying in bed, right flat of my back,
I feel on my tummy his wobbly track;
He steps on my ribs and slides all around,
Then he jumps on my head with a great big bound.
Across my two lips he walks with great care,
Then shuflles his feet all through my blond hair;
If I don't shut my eyes he'll step into them,
He hops on my ear and skips round the rim.
Along my wee nose he climbs to the point,
Runs round my chin 'til my jaw's out-of-joint,
From laughing and shouting and nudging this man
Who's made of two fingers of Daddy's big hand.