One summer day as my bike I rode,
I spied in the street a flattened out toad.
I stopped to look and it was neat,
Perfectly flat against the street.
It must have happened as it crossed the road,
And a car turned it into a flattened out toad.
Its guts had popped out and lay at its side,
And in the hot sun, had perfectly dried.
Its eyeballs were out at each side of its head.
This poor thing was instantly dead.
And as I gazed at it apon the hot asphalt,
I thought to myself "It's not it's fault."
"I'll take it away and bury it right."
So I put it in my pocket and rode out of site.
I rode real hard and I rode quite fast
So the flattened out toad could rest in peace at last.
I ran to the tool shed for a trowl and a pick
So I could dig a hole in which the toad to stick.
Then I ran to the stream and grabbed a small stone
To mark the flattened toads final resting home.
I dug a small hole in the nearby wood
And placed the stone so the grave looked good.
I then reached into my pocket, but to my disbelief,
The toad had disappeared.  "Holy crap! Good grief!"
I knew it couldn't fall out of the pocket in my pants.
So I thought checking again was worth a chance.
I checked once more."Oh please!" I begged.
This time I found the toads two front legs.
I searched with my fingers, deeper yet again.
Then pulled out what looked a flipper or a fin.
"What happened to it?" I began to ponder.
Then I realized, "It is no wonder."
"The riding and running and digging so rough,"
"Had ground the poor toad into parts and stuff."
So I turned out my pocket gently with great care
And checked to make sure all its parts were still there.
Its eyes and its legs, its feet and its head,
Its guts and its body could now go to bed.
I took all the parts and most of the skin
So that, the grave, they could lay therin.
I covered it with dirt and as there I sat,
In the distance I heard a distinctive "Ker-Splat!"