There's nothing wrong about the wool
When first it is untied;
The strands are lying evenly
And neatly, side by side.
But you should see what happens when
We start to wind that wool!
It gets in knots that won't come out,
No matter how we pull!
It keeps on slipping off our hands;
It tangles left and right;
And long before we're half-way through
It's in a dreadful plight!
The ball jumps down to find the cat,
And then it wanders round
And ties itself to table legs,
And things upon the ground.
And while we're looking for the ball,
Our Mother says, 'Oh dear!'
'You've got it in an awful mess!
'You'd better bring it here.'