Granny's teeth sleep in a jar.
It's right there by her bed.
She takes them out when it gets dark.
At least that's what she said.
I slept at Granny's house last night,
excited but homesick too.
When Granny saw I felt that way,
she knew just what to do.
"Who's that?" I yelled with a muffled scream.
It is I, Granny's teeth, and it's not a dream.
Settle back and listen for there's nothing to fear.
I've got enough stories to last for a year.
I talked to the teeth,
and the teeth talked back.
I'll lend you my false choppers
so you'll have a little piece of me
surrounding you with lots of love,
to keep you company.
It seemed a bit unusual.
I would've preferred a nice stuffed bear.
But I didn't hurt her feelings.
It was nice of her to share.
"Good night," said Grandpa.
"Ga nifem" gummed Granny.
"Hello, said the teeth.
Clickity click, clackity clatter
They talked to me all night long
If it wasn't tales about the good old days,
they were signing some wacky old song.
Or listing all of my relatives
born after nineteen sixty-four,
(I hate to have to say it,
but the teeth were quite a bore)
World WarI, then World War II.
Best recipe for lentil stew.
Milking cows when Gran was ten.
How food was so much fresher then.