harmless tears of thine
That drip so from thy tempest eyne
Have so proceeded to combine
To formulate a bubbling brine.
Indeed, this is a makeshift sea
Of only thy own mastery.
From purging waters critters flee
And curse the sea's creator: thee.
That little mouse that past now streaks
"Help! Help me, help!" In vain she squeaks
And she swims up, to thee she speaks...
Of bitter folly thy mouth leaks
She is offended, and good-bye
She bubbles off to live or die
To stay wet, or on land to dry,
Away she floats, and more you cry.
But now thou art all petty, small
No one to notice thee at all
upon dry land thou art let fall
And lo! behold, a see-fowl wall!
And thee in folly undertake
To dance so brazen without break
While thou of cold dost sorely shake
From tear-water from your salt lake!
For shame, young lady, oh, for shame,
to thus dishonor thy good name!
Thou didst not mean't, but all the same
For consequence such, you're to blame!
This page was last updated on June 28, 2003 by the KIWW Webmaster.