People Around the World

I have no idea how old we were when we wrote this. I'll give you, maybe, 11 and 13. Give or take. (For the record, the verse about Proat was written a while later, while me and Steve were weeding in the back yard.)

People Around the World
By Florence and Stephen McNair

Once a man owned a boat.
Once a man owned a goat.
Then that man scratched his throat,
Because he swam across the moat.
And what a man was he.
Once a girl owned a cat,
Who sat herself upon a mat.
This naughty cat could eat a bat,
And so it did, and then said, “drat!”
And what a cat was he.
In a house lived a boy.
This little boy once owned a toy.
His small toy smiled a tad bit coy,
And so his heart was filled with joy.
And what a boy was he.
Once a girl did own a hat.
Once a girl did own a cat.
This little cat could catch a rat.
She ate the rat and got quite fat.
And what a girl was she.
Once a dog did own a pot.
When on the stove it grew quite hot.
This little pot he liked a lot,
And kept it clean from any grot.
And what a dog was he.
Once a woman married Proat,
And then to K-PAX she did float.
And to her friends on earth she wrote,
Good Proat delivered every note.
And what a Proat was he.

And this seemingly innocent bit of evilness brewed up a little trick on our sister. ALL unintentional, I promise.
Sunny had a poetry site that she sent us the link to, and there was a little button on it that said "Submit a poem for critique" or something. So Steve and I, giving ourselves a clever pseudonym, concocted this poem and sent it (we THOUGHT) to Sunny for critique. We expected something along the lines of patient encouragement, or, and probably more likely, some thinly veiled sarcasm. We got neither. We were sorely disappointed.
UNTIL
We later discovered that this poem went up on Sunny's site as being written by her. She must've sent us the site logged in to her personal password or something, cause there's no way we thought that would happen. Then again, we weren't geniuses either.
So Sunny is having discussions with people about her poetry, and one of them decides to google her and comes up with THIS. And it was pretty nailed onto her, gave her location and full name and everything. Of course our sister, being who she is (a temperant and mild-mannered soul), flew into a frenzy and tried to find out who had written it because it obviously was not her.
And Florence and Steve, the innocent siblings, later learn of the grief it caused her in trying to hunt it down. After we told her it was us, (and to this day I swear that Steve was SCARED, right from the beginning he was ready to be like "BUT WE DIDN'T KNOW! IT'S NOT OUR FAULT!") she calls her husband and like 2 other people saying "OH MY GOD I FOUND OUT WHO IT WAS."
Of course she wouldn't get angry, because she knows we love her, and because we had cute little faces, so she told us to be proud of ourselves cause we successfully pulled a good prank on her. Steve, I think, was far from being proud, he wanted to be absolved of all shame. I was okay, probably because I had two year's worth of brain less than Steve did, and probably didn't grasp how our masterful poem could cause such harm. I was just happy that our poem got famous.