I'm inviting others to contribute poems you've come across, even maybe written. Here's a humerous one.
Osama the bullfrog set one day,
Watchin’ an eagle soar.
He said, “If I gits even half of a chance,
I ’ll settle a well-deserved score.”
So the bullfrog done set to his schemin’,
‘Cause he knowed the fish-buzzard weren’t bright.
If the target looked small and real helpless,
He could lure the bird from its flight.
The bullfrog set up a fake crawfish,
By a bush at a ford as a lure.
And he prayed heavenward (t’wards the buzzard),
“God please save us, we’re helpless an’ poor.”
That ol’ buzzard attacked without lookin’,
You’d a thought that he owned the whole land.
He jest buried his beak deep within the frog’s bait,
And inhaled with a great sucking sound.
Right then thet thar buzzard discovered,
This ‘ere game weren’t accordin’ to Hoyle.
‘Cause he found him no blood in the crawfish,
Thet thar buzzard he struck him no oil.
The ford by the bush it were bogus,
An’ the eagle were clean outta luck.
To this day they still call the ford “Crawford”,
And, “The place where the buzzard were plucked.”
And Osama the bullfrog, what of him?
How’s he fared since the Crawford bird fell?
No-one knows but they’s some folk is thinkin’,
When he dies its in heaven he’ll dwell.
To the swamp-critters, bullfrog’s a hero,
Even if what he done it weren’t right.
See, the eagle was worse than the bullfrog,
Killin’ mommas n’ chidrens ain‘t right.
Osama the bullfrog set one day
Watchin’ an eagle die.
An’ he said, “I din’t think I had much of a chance,
But I spit in that ol’ eagle’s eye.
If his kinfolk take heed and pay ‘ttention,
Maybe then they will leave us alone.
We have been here fer ‘round about 8,000 years,
All we want is fer them to go home.”
The Bullfrog and the Buzzard
Osama the bullfrog set one day,
Watchin’ an eagle soar.
He said, “If I gits even half of a chance,
I ’ll settle a well-deserved score.”
So the bullfrog done set to his schemin’,
‘Cause he knowed the fish-buzzard weren’t bright.
If the target looked small and real helpless,
He could lure the bird from its flight.
The bullfrog set up a fake crawfish,
By a bush at a ford as a lure.
And he prayed heavenward (t’wards the buzzard),
“God please save us, we’re helpless an’ poor.”
That ol’ buzzard attacked without lookin’,
You’d a thought that he owned the whole land.
He jest buried his beak deep within the frog’s bait,
And inhaled with a great sucking sound.
Right then thet thar buzzard discovered,
This ‘ere game weren’t accordin’ to Hoyle.
‘Cause he found him no blood in the crawfish,
Thet thar buzzard he struck him no oil.
The ford by the bush it were bogus,
An’ the eagle were clean outta luck.
To this day they still call the ford “Crawford”,
And, “The place where the buzzard were plucked.”
And Osama the bullfrog, what of him?
How’s he fared since the Crawford bird fell?
No-one knows but they’s some folk is thinkin’,
When he dies its in heaven he’ll dwell.
To the swamp-critters, bullfrog’s a hero,
Even if what he done it weren’t right.
See, the eagle was worse than the bullfrog,
Killin’ mommas n’ chidrens ain‘t right.
Osama the bullfrog set one day
Watchin’ an eagle die.
An’ he said, “I din’t think I had much of a chance,
But I spit in that ol’ eagle’s eye.
If his kinfolk take heed and pay ‘ttention,
Maybe then they will leave us alone.
We have been here fer ‘round about 8,000 years,
All we want is fer them to go home.”