LOVE YOU HEAPS!
“I love you so, Miss Eagerdig,” said Mr Heaps, the mole.
“Please let me speak, don’t say a word; right now I’m on a roll.
You make the earth move with your smile, you give me tunnel vision.
My world was dark before we met. I’ve come to a decision.
I dig you lots and crumble when you burrow next to me.
Let’s work together from now on, till all eternity.”
Miss Eagerdig dropped lashes coy, but how her heart was beating.
Her subterranean life had been so bleak before this meeting.
“I felt it too, the same as you,” Miss Eagerdig replied.
“The ground shook underneath my feet. This cannot be denied.”
Together they now excavate. The tunnel’s twice as big.
The earth just flies out from the heaps as side by side they dig.
One day I saw a funny sight;
Could not believe my eyes.
A chicken in the lib’ry, right!
No, I’m not telling lies.
She went up to the counter, said,
“I want this book, book, book.”
Not corn, not
five books is what she took.
And with her lib’ry card in claw
she left without a word.
A stranger sight I never saw,
than this book-laden bird.
I wondered, could she really
despite her tiny brain?
A totally new chicken breed!
I followed down the lane.
She headed straight
towards the river bank.
and waited by a plank.
I ducked into the shadows of
a rhododendron bush
and quickly swallowed a small cough
and told myself, “Now, shush!”
Out of the river leaped a frog
who seemed to know the chicken.
Jumped next to her upon a log
and actually started pickin’.
He thoroughly checked through the books.
The chicken asked “Why fret it?”
He answered her with angry looks,
“I’ve read it, read it, read it!”
FLEA FOR YOUR LIFE
Doggy one met doggy two
near a willow tree,
all shampooed and cleaned up well,
said, “Long time no flea.”
Flea on doggy one perked up,
smelling the perfume.
Thought, why don’t I change my ride?
This one’s va-va-voom!
With one leap the deed was done.
Itch-hiking in style.
Flea began to nestle in,
but only for a while.
Modern shampoos benefit
from top technology.
This shampoo was all the rage,
keeping dogs flea-free.
What had seemed like
close-up smelled like paint,
strong and fumy, potent too,
making flea feel faint.
He let go and tumbled off
back into the meadow.
Caught his breath and livened up
under willow’s shadow.
Later, feeling well again
and back on his old patch,
all he told the other fleas:
Dog wasn’t up to scratch.