When lines intersect, And sometimes they might, Angles are formed, Some wrong and some RIGHT, Angles are special, They have different types, Right, and obtuse, Acute ones are nice… Angles can’t angle, Which means they can’t fish,
And angles can’t whistle, Or grant you a wish… Angle’s no ANGEL, Or circle or sphere, But they do come in handy, When building a pier, Three measures of angles, For all sorts of needs, Angles are formed, When bending your knees… Surrounded by angles, I think what I’ve found, Without these 3 angles, Life would be round…