Franky Smalls Lee is the champ of champs snoozer;
Logs- a distant second, Princess Aurora-she's the loser.
The glasses may clink and the dishes may clatter,
But Franklin sleeps on- noise is no matter.
He slumbers boldly, while the vacuum drones,
while the dishwasher runs and people chat on iPhones.
Through sirens, alarms, bells, whistles and roars,
In nap-dom he stays, with the sweetest of snores.
But there is one sound that he always can hear-
the mutterings of his gut transmit loud and clear,
"Hey Smalls, Guess what? You're running on low!"
(in a voice that sounds like Tony Soprano).
So to show who's boss, Frank wakes and eats,
then goes back to sleep.
*This poem is entirely FACTUAL.