
Tickle me Pickle, that silly fellow,
Turns into a prune whenever it’s mellow.
It wriggles and giggles, oh what a hoot,
Until it becomes a prune, then it can’t scoot!
But when the sun shines and the laughter is bright,
It dances and twirls, a joyful sight.
With friends all around, it’s never alone,
In the pickle patch party, it’s right at home!

