You said “Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds.”
Well, I hope you don’t mind
If you let me speak a little of my mind
on the subject.
I realize I look suspect,
But it really isn’t how it looks,
And I promise I am no crook.
Plus, I am really no fool,
Although sometimes I babble like a brook.
You see, last night, I saw an amazing feat:
It was a squirrel who ran under my feet!
She had a bushy tail and as she ran it whirled,
And in her mouth was a necklace of pearls!
Well, gosh darn! golly gee!
You can just imagine what came over me!
I was astonished at what I just saw
and turned around in even greater awe
to find, in front of me, an older lady
who was running around acting crazy,
screaming about the rascally vermin
who just now ran past!
I was aghast, but I felt the need to do something.
So I just started running
after the squirrel with the lady behind me
when the squirrel jumped up a big oak tree.
Up the tree the little thief shimmied
I pleaded with it regarding the necklace: “Gimme!”
But the squirrel had plans of its own,
I guess even squirrels like to decorate their home.
So I almost gave up, but the sight of the lady,
Behind me sort of scared me,
So I did what every little boy does:
I began to climb the tree that was covered with fuzz.
It was green and slippery, maybe it was moss,
But I was determined to show this furry fiend who was boss
So I climbed and climbed till I was so high
I saw an eagle flying close by.
Thats when I saw the squirrel, who calmly said,
“Aren’t you afraid of falling on your head?”
To which I replied, with as much courage as I could muster
“Look, give the lady back her pearls, Buster.”
At which the Squirrel did a little dance and said “Catch!”
As she tossed the pearl necklace onto the grass.
I reached for the necklace, but miscalculated.
All I remember was the way the world gyrated,
And that’s why my clothes are green and torn,
And that’s why you found me in a stupor on the lawn.
What happened to the lady? I think she left;
Her hubby was a real estate tycoon out West.
But the squirrel, I’m sure she’s still there
Stirring up mischief, without a care,
But I brought you fro yo and a true story, my dear,
So unless you’re going to help me catch a squirrel,
or ice my red, sore, rear:
Please stop quoting me Shakespeare.