Pot-bellied and but-jellied-skinned I walk.
Triple-chinned with big, wide grin I talk.
With bulging bags beneath my eyes I gawk.
To get from bathroom to my bed, need luck.
The floorboard broke; I landed on my chin.
They used a crane to lift me up again.
My pastor said I must have hidden sin.
My neighbor would not lend his trampoline.
Grandchildren always call me Goodyear blimp.
The hippos at the zoo are prone to wink.
Invite me to the waterhole to drink.
Mistaken me for buffalo I think.