In various ways,
With sound effects in toe,
For each "barrel roll",
Starting with wham, crash and boom,
Calling himself "Trash IRL", he's a little goon,
Terrorizing peaceful evenings,
And slow, lazy afternoons,
His toothless naughty chuckle,
Has my already broken back in a buckle,
Just another day of being Riaan's mom,
With my baby monkey around, I hardly get any time to feel forlorn.
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