Twiddle, diddle, piddle,
Round and round they go,
Seeking to and fro,
Encircling the middle.
Glorious appendage,
Following your track,
First here, then back.
Secret patience of the Sage.
Not a finger, but a thumb,
Helping the day,
Passing on its way.
How I wish I had some rum.
Encircling the middle,
Seeking to and fro.
Round and round they go,
Piddle, diddle, twiddle.
Thank you for reading,
Ernest
When My Worlds Collide 