Froggy

Frog in a Bog

Down in the depths of a smelly, squishy bog
Lived a rather noisy, green and grumpy frog,
He burped and he gulped and he croaked all day
Hopping about in a splishy, sploshy way.

Froggy stuck out his tongue and splat went a fly
Then he crunched and he munched and swallowed with a sigh
You would think he'd be happy in his muddy, slimy niche
With bugs, grubs, flies and worms well within his reach.

But Froggy was a foreman of a fishy factory
And snails, slugs and slow-worms made his life a misery.
Everyday there was a riot on the grimly, grimy shore,
"No Oxygen, No work!" all the protestors swore.

There were pickets in the pond weed
The fish turned in their fins
The roach went on the rampage
Sardines cringed in their tins.

"Our population has exploded,
No air, no food, no sun."
So Froggy solved their problem...
And ate them. Every one!


"Cuppa?" said the text from Carole. "Lovely," was the reply. I walked round this afternoon and we had a good catch up. This is the frog she brought me back from Portugal. I love it. I need to go and put the kettle on now as Tracey is nipping round for a cuppa...I love catching up with friends.