Poop poop!

Mr Toad dashes like a hare

Across rivers, over hills

on his way to the country fair

–

Poop poop!

Weasels flying this way and that

as Mr Toad’s automobile

hits for six like a willow cricket bat

–

Poop poop!

Oh dear the mess left behind

unnoticed by the excited Mr Toad

who is totally speed blind

–

Poop poop!

A carefree Mr Toad races and flies

here, there and back again

watching the road with eager eyes

–

Poop poop!

Mr Toad does not arrive at the fair

Rather there is a crash and a smash

involving a confused chestnut mare

My Poetry Happiness