Thursday, October 7, 2010

Ode To The Squirrel Thingy

This bit of prose
I write by special request.
Not for a special friend,
It's for my special pest.

The pest that I speak of
Is the front yard squirrel
He acts happy all day long.
It makes me want to hurl.

Scampering across the yard,
Doing squirrely things.
Leaping from branch to branch,
Flying without wings.

I sit in the bay window,
Chittering my displeasure,
Someday I'll get hold of him
And consume him at my leisure.

Even at nighttime,
There's no escape it seems.
I wake up in the wee hours,
After having squirrely dreams.

I hope you do not doubt me,
I know of which I speak.
There's none so maddening
As this pine cone munching freak.

I am not his only detractor,
Ivan, he shares my disdain.
He'd love to get ahold of him
And cause him lots of pain.

The day it is approaching,
The rodent he will pay.
I'll bust out the window screen.
The rodent I will slay.

And so I'll say in closing,
Before I take my nap.
Only Tiger Lily
Would be more fun to slap.

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