The wind bent the branch down and thumped me on the head.
The tire on the Buick rolled the squirrel a squishy dead.
The spirit of the squirrel rose to climb the mighty Oak -
So it wasn’t just the wind that made the branch give me a
poke.
In remorse I sold the Buick - I did it right away.
I’ve never driven anything - ever since that day.
I walk to work, I hike to town, I crawl out of the bars -
And never sit behind the wheel of furry killer cars.
My friends and I went golfing, a walking sport indeed.
The air was crisp, the morning cool; there was something in
the weeds.
My head was down; my swing was good - for someone short and
stocky.
I hit the ball; I missed the moose, unfortunately got
Rocky.
1 comment:
OK - you made me laugh..............OUT LOUD................I'm at work! ha ha
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