Cousin Al, (from Avalon)
I must confess, my guardians kept
The first epistle that you sent.
And since have kept a watchful pace
So I'll not leave this desolate place
To visit you in Avalon.
It's true, they do what Goose has told
And take me from my sleeping den.
They prod and poke and really do provoke.
These men (they think) put on a right good show.
They call me "Wise" and would that I propose
A purpose that is contrary to (as every groundhog knows)
What our good Mother in her wisdom
Brooks no objection as she does devise
Her plan. That they do tamper with her work,
There cannot be a doubt. For when they come
On wintry mourn to do as you describe,
They ride on beasts with legs quite round
That belch foul fumes from in their tails.
I know not what they feed these beasts
It is some strange thing that I'd not eat;
To be sure!
And it surely is not clover.
The reason here I'll tell you why:
When those good men who would me awake
Just for them to have the weather make,
Had gone, I took myself from my den quite bold
To examine for myself what tracks a beast
With feet quite round would mold.
To my surprise, they were continuous
Much like those of a snake.
Where they had stopped, their mark they'd let.
Yes Al, their droppings blacked the very snow.
All in all, they were to me obnoxious;
Cousin Al, I'm sure to you they'd be the same.
If, indeed, I am "Oh wise" as some would have believed,
I'd let the world be rid of all such beasts,
Or, at the very least,
Have them dine as you and I do
On a much superior quality of hay.
Respectfully,
Your cousin, Phil (from Puxn Oh never mind)
Copyright 1990 A. Tom McCoy
A. Tom McCoy, is the author of "All About Wizzer; The True Tales of the Chestnut Valley Gang" available from http://www.Amazon.com
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