My granny always says to me,
“I love to hug your bones.”
She wraps her arms around me tight,
Despite my moans and groans.

Then Grandpa comes to count my ribs;
I should have twenty-four.
He says I’m just a little short;
He’s got to find one more.

The search goes up one wiggling side,
And down again, you see.
The counting never seems to stop
’Cause Grandpa’s tickling me.

I love to go to Gramp and Gran’s.
It’s always great fun when
They hug my bones and count my ribs.
Can’t wait to go again!