If he were one
Of The Grand Old Duke’s men
He’d march up
York Hill briskly
And march down again
Turn this around
Conversely
Vice versa
Picture ablutions
Of Merry Ted Ursa
His bath is inviting
He’s fine to step in
Luxuriate
Wallow
In bubbles to chin
Behold ball game change
On attempt to climb out
Despite his contortions
He’s prostrate on snout
Less of a bear
More a lame duck
No doubt whatsoever
He’s totally stuck
Come on Merry Ted
Admit you’re mature
An eensy bit flabby
On pins less secure
Accept ageing stiffness
Diminishing power
Bid farewell to bath
And instal walk-in shower