Ala bam a
I sometimes take a little glance,
And wonder what, if by chance,
If Balladeer been born a bee,
Or a pig or goat or flea.
He could have been an old milk cow,
With little thought beyond what's now,
His future would be "well done" steaks,
For hungry diner's dinner plates.
How glad I am, you may ask why,
That he's not some household fly,
Whose thoughts of wholesome gastric treats,
were tid-bits from the refuse heaps,
doomed perhaps to end his days
choked to death by insect sprays.
He'd really hate to end it all,
Swatted flat on one's kitchen wall.
[This message has been edited by Toerag (edited 09-20-1999).]