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The Amphibian

This frog hops to the beat of his own drum, unburdened by customs and undaunted by ridicule. He will not forego his personal comfort in the face of great pressure from his slimy peers. He sits under the lily pad.

Shorts Weather!

Oh, the warm and balmy weather

will proceed, by all reports.

So I hike by heath and heather.

And guess what! I’m wearing shorts!

 

Well, I may not be athletic.

No, I’m not that good at sports.

But I’m playfully poetic,

and I’m handsome in my shorts.

 

So if you don’t like it, sue me.

Go on, take me to the courts.

But I won’t be very gloomy,

cause I’ll still be wearing shorts.

 

They can say I’m in a stupor,

I’ve a million retorts.

It’s a petty party pooper

who expostulates or snorts.

I’ll be out there feeling super.

No, I won’t be out of sorts!

It’s a splendid, sunny spring—let’s all wear shorts!