Young Sally just swallowed the wishbone
The flipping thing stuck in her throat
They did what they could
After finishing the pud
They even put things to a vote
She wished that they’d get the thing out
So they waggled and prodded and a poked
They tried but they couldn’t
And probably shouldn’t
Sadly for Sally, she croaked
A Badly Chewed Pencil 
Poor Sally. She didn’t realise that appearing in one of your rhymes is a death sentence… 🙂
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I shall have to remember not to write a poem that includes me and you!
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She should have made a wish.
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She did…. But wishes don’t always come true!
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Well, that’s true enough.
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