JELL-O

Patty Lou, my sister, said my Jell-O was alive
When I was only four years old and Patty Lou was five.
It wiggled and it jiggled when she plopped some on a plate.
I went to take a bite, but Patty stopped me, shouting, "Wait!"

"I swear I heard it cry" she said, and held it near her ear,
"It's pleading, 'Put me down!' and, look, it's shivering with fear.
"It's asking us to 'Just say no!' It's begging, 'Set me free!'
"I think it wet the plate, poor thing, oh please just let it be!"

So, even though it looked so sweet and cool and cherry red,
I said, "I pass!" and walked away. I went to bed instead.
I passed up my dessert on each and every Jell-O night
'Cuz slurping up such sad, distraught desserts did not seem right.

But now that we are older (Patty's ten and I am nine)
I know my sister always ate her Jell-O, hers and mine.
I saw her eat it on the sly, that naughty Patty Lou.
But as for me, I've never murdered Jell-O, how 'bout you?