by Gillette Burgess
The Goops they lick their fingers
And the Goops they lick their knives:
They spill their broth on the tablecloth
Oh, they lead disgusting lives!
The Goops they talk while eating,
And loud and fast they chew;
And that is why I'm glad that I
Am not a Goop, are you?
If you are the copyright holder of this poem and it was submitted by one of our users without your consent, please contact us here and we will be happy to remove it.