My Knee Is for Me

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My Knee is for Me by Kenn Nesbitt

My dad said he needed
to borrow my knee.
He reached out and grabbed it
to take it from me.

I asked him to quit it.
He gave me a grin,
then yanked on my ankle
and tugged on my shin.

I yelled, “Cut it out!”
as he clung to my shoe
and pulled on my foot like
he wanted that too.

He finally stopped when
I started to beg,
then winked and said,
“I was just pulling your leg.”