Knuckles
They curl to beckon me to come, and that I like a lot.
They slink into your sinuses, and thus retrieve your snot.
They let you play the piano, flute, the bass, the valve trombone,
They help you make a signature, to get a nice bank loan.
Without them, like a leper, you’d be only fit to beg,
You couldn’t even scratch your head, your ass, my back, your leg.
They’re ever-oh-so useful, pulling triggers, setting traps,
And shaking hands with Africans, they make delightful snaps.
It’s hard to get a grip on just how utile they can be,
But without them, you’d nevermore grip anything, you see.
There simply is no limit to the things that they can do.
Just try to make a peace-sign, a.k.a. the number 2!
The deaf have extra need for them in daily conversation,
For thus they form the alphabet, in oral-less oration.
You couldn’t do a zipper, or a button, or a buckle,
But for your friends, your finger-bends, your ever-flexing knuckles.