They carry me around all day,
to schools, to work, to parks.
They even take me to play,
though still I handle jerks.

I jingle, I jangle, I laugh,
reveling in my sonorous clicks.
Most people never have enough.
From me, they have their kicks.

They recognize my sound;
all who hear me revere me.
Sometimes, I’m lost, but found,
by careless people you see.

I am a decoration,
an asset to the key.
They look in adoration,
knowing we’re meant to be.

I’m Mickey, I’m Minnie, I’m Pooh.
Call me all what you will.
It won’t make a difference to you,
for I have looks to kill.

I’m the glorious keychain,
a wonderful sight to behold.
My looks have good brains,
or so I’ve been told.