Red Winged Black Bird on a fence post in a field.



Category: poetry

A squirrel it was, a little critter,
That ran up the side of the tree,
While I was reading, sitting in the shade,
Startling me, causing me to spill my beverage.
Oh, damned squirrel, vile creature,
Why would you spite me so?
To cause me to spill me icy cold beverage,
Down the front of my warm trousers?
Come back down, down from those branches,
Face my wrath, face my ire,
Face up to the consequences of your actions,
Face up to your final destiny.
I stared up at the squirrel, nasty creature,
I shook my fist and gnashed my teeth.
It glared back at me, evil creature,
And showed me its middle claw.

Comments (0)
You gotta pick the right guy to do the job.
Go out now and vote for LibertyBob.
Extra dammit with cheese!