Roses

Hi. I'm Charles the Bear Cub. You know me. I live on Sparkle Road with my buddy, James. He's really old. He was the second Canadian to get off Noah's Ark, you know. He must be at least 20! Oh. Wait! Chance lives with us, too. He's a newborn cubby someone left in a basket on our doorstep. He's a wee little thing. I look after Chance, too. He's a handful!

Know what? I'm smelling a rose. They smell good like gummy worms but we can't eat roses 'cuz they're not in the Canada Food Guide. I know a poem about roses. Miss Jackie taught it to us at the Scruffy Maple Day Care Centre.


Moses supposes his toeses are roses,
But Moses supposes erroneously.
Moses he knowses his toeses aren't roses,
As Moses supposes his toeses to be.

I know another poem about roses, too.

Roses on my shoulder,
Slippers on my feet,
I'm Charles the handsome bear cub,
Now, ain't that sweet!

James taught me another poem about roses.

Roses are red,
Violets are purple.
Sugar is sweet,
Like maple syruple!

Oh. Wait! Did you hear that? James is hollering, "Where are my handsome bear cubs? Where are my Sons of Windsor? Where are my Princes of Ontario? That's me! Charles! That's Chance!  I gotta find Chance! We're handsome bear cubs. We're Sons of Windsor and Princes of Ontario! We gotta go find James so we can get our ears tickled and our noses kissed.

This is me, Charles the Bear Cub saying, "Be good citizens. Take time to smell the roses but don't eat them, okay? Then you can eat Smarties and drink root beer. Oh! Wait! Come over to our house and smell the roses with us!  Okay! Over and out!"