Monday, April 2, 2012

Dally Crab by Amy Probst


Once upon a scary time,
When monsters put a bit of lime
Inside the babies they did eat,
A little grub, she found her feet.

Grubs have no feet, as you know.
Except for her, little Flo.
She ran and ran and ran some more.
Up hills, 'cross town, and out the door.

The countryside could not contain her,
Our Flo the grub became a small blur.
In France and Louse and Turkey, too,
Where one boy heard a fast "boo-hoo."

Because Flo was scared and running sad.
Grubs don't learn, from mom or dad
How to stop when they start running.
So on Flo went, small feet a'gunning.

She cried and ran and lost her weight
Finally thin enough to date.
But who could catch her, at this speed?
"Please let me stop!" to God she plea'd.

And stop she did, right on the beach.
Nose-to-nose with shiny leech.
"What are you?" he asked small Flo.
"I think you're cute, Miss Many Toe."

A happy ending, for deformed Flo.
A footed grub from Mexico.
Sometimes a leech is what it takes
To help us find our hidden brakes.
Unless you are a dally crab

Eating bacon by the slab

Resting on your useless flab

Caring not to pick a scab

Don't have a heart, don't take a stab

Enjoy the coziness of drab

A life of bliss outside the lab.

Little frilly dally crab.

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