Bouncy, bouncy Baby Bungee,
born to bounce, so soft and spongy,
stretched his neck, fell off a wall
and sprang back like a rubber ball.
Inside his crib, he took a step.
His first step packed a load of pep.
He hit the ceiling, kicked the light,
and bounced around the room all night.
Mom took him to a famous store.
He wrecked the robot dinosaur.
He knocked down blocks. He stopped the clocks.
The quake he made caused aftershocks!
By three, he was a dribbling star
and people came from near and far
to see him, barely two feet tall,
leap to the rim and dunk the ball.
His parents hugged him close, their joy
as boundless as their bouncy boy.
He said his first words, "Ready, set,"
then shot himself right through the net.
Each night, he likes to stretch his hands.
They spring right back like rubber bands.
He pulls his nose. He pulls his head
and snaps himself right into bed.
Yet when at rest, his breaths are mild.
He sleeps like any tired child.
Just moonlight bounces off his walls,
while dreams spring up as darkness falls.