The microbe By Jack Rees

The microbe

The microbe is so miniature,

You can not see his little fur.

But many sanguine people try,

To see his beady little eye.

His jointed leg that walks around,

Scientists hope it will be found.

His wriggly tail with lots and lots,

Of lovely green and orange spots.

On each of which a pattern stands,

Composed of thirty cotton strands.

His little nose of a sky blue,

They are so small good luck to you.

But scientists who ought to think,

To wash them down the kitchen sink.

Please never ever let us doubt,

What nobody is sure about!