For the dashing
Yet things were in reverse
For his childhood blood brother
Whose odd name was Teaberry Von
His fame rose slowly in his ancient days
Derf’s fame quickly fell died a common man
Since I have the time.
I will write a poem that rhymes
There was a duck
Who had a lot of luck
He found a *** of gold
And lived to be very old
Only one thing made him totter
He had a great fear of the water
Today I just thought I would write a really bad poem about writing.
All is cool
At the very end
It will not matter in the least
If you can
Stand at the crossroads
Don't look back at the path again
Then the mask
Billed from "The Far East"
At first he was hated
A villain who was heckled
In time the fans learned to love him
The Yellow Cat became an icon
For eleven months held the golden belt
Tears filled his face
As the golden belt
Was won by another
Mobs looted the tiny town
He stood on his soapbox with rage
And became Governor of the land
A cult formed around The Yellow Cat
Removed the mask
Of The Yellow Cat
A man with a plain face
His name of no importance
People were weary of the hype
And life returned to it's normal pace
The Yellow Cat cried the tears of a spoiled brat
I know a story ten miles long,
Now it's gone.
Is always ahead of us.
Where will the path end?