Dippy Eggs

Dippy eggs were not something that I had much as a kid. In fact, I am pretty sure that it was Grant who introduced me to them when I was 18 years old. But whenever I have them, I revert back to a childish state of giggling and messiness that is not my normal, pretty controlled, state of being. So I decided to revert back to that state for this short poem. I apologise in advance.

Flippy hippy sippy eggs
Wibble wobble in their holders
Slippy quippy whippy eggs
Waiting for my spoon
Nippy tippy clippy eggs
Oozing over everything thing
Zippy grippy dippy eggs
Cannot come too soon.