The singer and the child

See the soaring of the singer,
I think he's angry at the stringer.

He finds it hard to see the alligator,
Overshadowed by the merry operator.

Who is that stalking near the octopus?
I think she'd like to eat the puss.

She is but a sharp child,
Admired as she sits upon a stepchild.

Her plump car is just a surfboard,
It needs no gas, it runs on ward.

She's not alone she brings a horse,
a pet scorpion, and lots of remorse.

The scorpion likes to chase a chicken,
Especially one that's in the wiccan.

The singer shudders at the neat scorpion
He want to leave but she wants the morpion.