Words and Music by Ted Kirkpatrick    Silly childhood game - Uncle Wiggily  I cower in abject horror  Approaching space number 109  Home of the gaunt and haggard shell of the Skeezix    The emaciated figure  Harboring the greed of a thousand  Invading, thriving, ascaris whittles away  The self confidence of young minds  Casting doubt that they will  Ever reach the finish  To see for themselves  The segacious Uncle Wiggily    His mission now is complete  The arboreal king of misery and woe  Skeezix reposes high on a knotty forest crag  And the child still tries his best to  Stay in the game  But with insufficient, no volition  Plotted course of demolition  Goes through all the motions  Musing caveat emptor and  A predetermined failure    He draws a card and all his fears come true  Advance to 109  That's what you have to do    When Mr. Skeezix becomes Mr. Jones  Or you, or me  Just think of what it does to wreck  A child of two or three  They know and feel much more than  We will give them credit for  And all they want in life from you  Is love and nothing more  When painful eyes begin to cringe  When you walk through the door  Remember children are a gift of love  Sent from the Lord