Grums and Bums

They say Grums and Diddits

Will cause you to fidget

When you are all on your own

But Philabs and Bogdin

Will your little brain in

When you are fully grown

Diddits are quite small things

That have bright pink wings

They often fly round your head

Grums are pretty chubby

And often fairly grubby

And seem to be made of lead

Philabs are downright mental

Yet often rather gentle

They lurk in the corners of rooms

Bogdin are much madder

Yet strangely they're sadder

With their own little grey cloud of gloom

The Diddits and the Grums

Have their group of chums

And keep much to themselves

The Bogdin and the Philabs

Hang about with rock bands

Never ones to be put on shelves

But oddly they all get on

It's like some silly song

About the cheery smiley Brady Bunch

And so, this thing must end

Before it drives us round the bend

And makes us think we're made of Monster Munch