As he lightly strums his ukulele,
All eight hundred thousand subscribers swoon
He sings of Doctor Who and acne
And eats baby food on a silver spoon
Others may find his profession quite strange
As he records himself for a living
But there isn’t a thing I would exchange
Than to watch the British teenager sing
With an accent to make anyone blush
And his charm making him hard to dislike
I must admit I have a little crush
On a certain Charlieissocoollike
This may be a strange theme for a sonnet
But, indeed, we are taking british lit
I have too much time on my hands.
L.
