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children's book writer
The Pickpocketeer
There’s a Pickpocketeer
With a big silver pouch
Pickpocketing pockets
From inside my couch
He’s sneaky and quiet
In the cushions somewhere
Hiding so well
You don’t know he’s there
When someone sits down
What they had before
By the time they get up
Isn’t there anymore
He fills his pouch full
With coins and keys
He'll take the remote control
And the crumbs that he sees
When your pockets are empty
Not even a cent
He’ll go back in
Just to take out the lint
Every house with a couch
Has this problem I hear
Pocket things just disappear
They all must have
A Pickpocketeer
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