I live in a cave, wiggling and free, I gossip, I slurp, and sneak snacks with thee. I don’t have legs but I sure love to roam, helping you talk or whistle where I’m right at home.

When the clock strikes two-thirty, it's time to come on in; Your palate is my palette and my canvas is your grin.

I'm known for eating honey, though I'm not picky at all. I'll even raid your trash barrels if they smell good at all. Some say I'm scary, some say I'm cute, some train me to do tricks; But I just want your basket when you go on pick-a-nicks

I build up suspense like a drama queen, then burst on the scene loud and unclean. I’m sudden, rude, and rarely polite, I’ll blow your plans and your nose mid-flight.

I line your grin in tidy rows, but when you eat, I sometimes stow a bit of lunch I won’t release, a stubborn guest with zero peace.