A Dirty Job Poem by Ima Ryma

I watched my three year old outside.
He told me he wanted to find
Buried treasure he knew did hide
In the back yard, and set his mind
That he was gonna dig until
That buried treasure he undug.
I figured it a harmless thrill.
Maybe he'd come across a bug.
I watched him go after his goal,
Both hands digging, the dirt did fly.
Quickly did come a good sized hole.
In headfirst went my little guy.

I'm off to dig my digger up.
I'm sure a bath is coming, yup.