Meals if Mud

November 30, 2010
He sits with excellent posture
Like nothing from a pasture
He is dressed like a king
Including a necklace and rings
With a soaring pointy crown
He pretends to laugh at a clown,
As he slowly gracefully eats
His seasoned tendered meats
Silver fork, pinky high in the air
Baggers plead, but he won’t share
He threw them a naked bone
But even savage rats left it alone
The starving baggers scurried away
His guests laugh forever and always
“Stupid old fool,” they snickered at him
As he sat there in light so dim
Still absorbed in his trance
His eyes sparkle in a dance
With his pinky, still high in the air
Rats stay close, but he won’t share
Always ready to shed blood
Defending his delicious meals of mud

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