Gedicht
Tony Mitton
Grown Out Of
Grown Out Of
Grown Out Of
My trousers are tight.They just won’t fit.
And my jumper?
I’ve grown out of it.
My shirt’s too short.
It just won’t do.
There are holes in my socks
where my toes peep through.
So it’s lucky I don’t
grow out of my skin.
‘Cos then there’d be nothing
to put me in.
© 2001, Tony Mitton
From: Pip
Publisher: Scholastic, London
From: Pip
Publisher: Scholastic, London
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Grown Out Of
My trousers are tight.They just won’t fit.
And my jumper?
I’ve grown out of it.
My shirt’s too short.
It just won’t do.
There are holes in my socks
where my toes peep through.
So it’s lucky I don’t
grow out of my skin.
‘Cos then there’d be nothing
to put me in.
From: Pip
Grown Out Of
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