Black as midnight shale,
Head twitching this way and that,
Escaping without fail,
Stupid big fat rat.

He creeps forward with intent,
His hunger growing with each step,
He wants lunch, for this he is hell bent,
Across the entire swamp he has swept.

The bird rears his ugly head,
Revealing his razor sharp chin,
He thinks he is surely dead,
Could it be he won't win?

But he is Cole so that cannot be,
So I'll leave you with this, that bird was tasty.