Every time I walk around, They leavesomething on the ground; Although I try to pick them up, they never reach inside my cup. They always trudge along behind, Waiting for me to try and find; Who's leaving these on the ground? Why, there, everywhere, even upside down! I think they're monsters trying for trouble, Or maybe gnomes with shoes of bubbles; Possibly creeping up up behind, I stop and they're gone again. The many more steps I have to take, The many more prints they seem to make; Until I turn around and see, The dorty prints belong to me! gr8 poem eh my sister wrote that