Wine?
You ask.
Cork or
Twist top?
Bag or Box?
Can I have a beer?
An army of frogs looked on,
Their tongues darting, throats bulging.
Belching out frog speak, they were
Wishing for kisses or at least a licking.
When you do the right thing,
You always do wrong by someone.
Not an insect in sight you see,
Frogs are their plight.
And I, well, I sell their legs
To dozens of eateries.
My fine mesh net scoops up the officers,
Their eyes, tearing up, their troops follow suit.
I'm counting my way back to town.
I got a **** load of frogs.. a **** load of legs.
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 8:35 PM UTC
Wine?
You ask.
Cork or
Twist top?
Bag or Box?
Can I have a beer?
An army of frogs looked on,
Their tongues darting, throats bulging.
Belching out frog speak, they were
Wishing for kisses or at least a licking.
When you do the right thing,
You always do wrong by someone.
Not an insect in sight you see,
Frogs are their plight.
And I, well, I sell their legs
To dozens of eateries.
My fine mesh net scoops up the officers,
Their eyes, tearing up, their troops follow suit.
I'm counting my way back to town.
I got a **** load of frogs.. a **** load of legs.
Request permission to use this poem