That which does not kill us makes us stronger. -- Nietzsche
In other words, read this again and again and again...
The boy sat with the little lizard
Writing his first book.
The lazy lion laughing low
Stole burgers from the cook.
"Thank you, sir," the lion laughed.
The cook yelled. "Very fine!"
The boy put butter on his toes
And sipped a flask of wine.
"Ah, virtuous vowels!" he thought and Vince
Relaxed and had a beer.
The lion looked across the valley
At a herd of deer.
"Venison," he said. "is lovely."
Then the lizard jumped
Right up a coy young lady's skirt.
Her daddy roared "Harrumph!"
Then Vince stood up and smacked his belly
Playing soldier marches.
The boy heard three loud cawing crows
Perched on the Golden Arches.
The lad put down his thick black book
And thought of lonely things:
Like how a bird lost from its flock
Its trembling sorrow sings.
But then he felt his tummy calling
And rolled up his slacks.
"Boy oh boy!" exclaimed the boy,
And ordered three Big Macs.
The oil boiled in his fries.
He put a lot of salt
On Vince's vest and it was good
To have with a chocolate malt.
But then the boy got very sick
And threw up three Big Macs.
"Good Lord, boy!" said a passing nun.
"You filled those paper sacks!"
But that was all. This tale is done.
The boy has written his book.
The coy young lady loves the lion
And Vince is now the cook.
George Chadderdon © 1999