I am Amazing Amanda,
pretty and perfectly pink;
you're bound to be stunned by my candour,
and the way I apparently think.
You're not my mummy. My phrases
are governed by times of the day.
In the morning, I blow you to blazes;
at evening I kneel down and pray.
I love you by trial, or error,
and weep when my battery's working.
I will not say “war upon terror”,
have programmed myself to stop smirking.
I love my hair brushed when I'm lying
beside you, but please do not trim it.
Take care what you do. When you're dying,
my language is pushed to the limit.
And remember, I can't understand a
thing that you tell me. You heard:
I may be Amazing Amanda
but sometimes I run out of word.