A little poet

Just a random collection of some first-time poetry.

There once was a boy named Drew.

He grew and grew and grew,

Once he was done,

He was quite the lug,

His mother cried out who knew.

One day flew on by,

Like any other on the sky,

But this was the day,

As my dear old mother would say,

Would truly bring good stews.

I had a sixpence,

And a golden eye,

For my little sixpence,

I traded with a little spy,

I traded a shoe and some glue,

All for my golden eye.