“Hey there, Mr. Slug! Why do you like my cymbidiums?
Why don’t you dine on the dandelions that so abundantly grow?”
“Well, Mr. Bob, your cymbidiums are so delicious,
And your weeds are not so agreeable. I feel you ought to know.”
 
“Hey there, Mr. Termite! Why do you like my house?
Why can’t you chomp on the neighbors’—the one with such beautiful wood.”
“Well, Mr. Bob, your house is so nutritious;
Your neighbors’ house has been treated, and it doesn’t taste so good.”
 
“Hey there, Mrs. Whitefly! Do you have to **** my hibiscus?
What’s wrong with the morning glories that cover the neighbors’ fence.”
“Well, Mister Bob, hibiscus plants are enticing;
If I feasted on the others, I’d lack some common sense.”
 
“Hey there, Mr. Aphid! Do you have to devour my roses?
Why can’t you gorge on the grasses that grow in yonder field?”
“Well, Mr. Bob, not a thing in that field has
The lure of the genus Rosa, but I’ll keep my eyes peeled.”
 
“Hey there, Mrs. Fly! Do you have to buzz into MY house?
What is wrong with the neighbors’—the one with the door open wide?”
“Well, Mr. Bob, we love the smell of your cookies
And cakes and blueberry cobblers. We’re dying to get inside!”
 
“Well, so much for asking! At least I made an attempt
To deal with you pesky visitors; to bid you all adieu.”
“Sorry, Mr. Bob. We don’t feel very welcome;
But perhaps you’ve forgotten something: WE were here long before YOU.”

- by Bob B