The Face Dirtier is out there day after day, He watches and waits, until I go to play.

I told my mum I would keep my face clean, But he was waiting out there, hidden, unseen.

He was ready for mischief as I ran outside, I couldn't avoid him, 'though I really did try!

In the puddle, I jumped, There was mud that he dumped.

In the tree I climbed, There was a bug trail; he slimed.

In the bushes, I scrambled He left dirt on the brambles.

When I got home, my mum she could see, The ginormous mess he had made of me.

She laughed so much as she sent me to bath, And giggled so hard as she cleaned my dirt path.

I don't understand why grown-ups can't see, It's the Face Dirtier who does it. It's really not me!

by Alex