◊(Local Yarn Code "Artifact [97ac3aa0]")

Artifact 97ac3aa043de069b6d0e290fd4d309f73ed9e21f5519059daa5b72b1ae7007f3:


#lang pollen

◊; Copyright 2000 by Joel Dueck. All Rights Reserved.

◊(define-meta published "2000-10-27")

◊verse[#:title "The Ride"]{
Half the creaking crickets ’twixt the poplars and the pine  
Own the frog their master yet they fear with him to dine.  
Wherefore the fear? The reason’s clear: the crickets have no spine.

Wild crows are always hungry for they hate all that they scour:  
Apples make them pucker and they think the grapes too sour.  
So with empty plates they crow ’till late, long past the supper hour.

The squirrel in the hollow has a mind that’s very shallow,  
His cheeks are very puffy, for he oft forgets to swallow;  
Ere autumn ends, he downs it then, and sleeps on leafy pillow.

Robbins every morning have to wrestle with a hassle:  
In the summer all their feathers scratch their throats like little thistles;  
Do these rusty-coloured feathers cause their early-morning whistle?  
Eh?}