Bubble Trouble
The trouble with Bobby is bubbles
Been his hobby since he was a boy
When Santa brought him a bubble
One Christmas instead of a toy
Since then he has tried to recapture
The magic of that shimmering sphere
And decided the blowing of bubbles
Would be his chosen career
Fairy Liquid he pours on his cornflakes
Scented soap he spreads on his toast
To be undisputed world champion
‘A billion I’ll blow!’ his proud boast
Golden globes, silver orbs and Belishas
All manner of ball he creates
And with a fair wind behind him
A small zeppelin our hero inflates
But the trouble with all of his bubbles
Though perfect in every way
Though fashioned with love and attention
(And we’re talking a thousand a day)
These gravitational blips
These would-be orbiting planets
Within seconds of leaving his lips
Go 
Just like that
