A Frog in the Evetide Glow
Hanging from ribbons high fathoms above,
High as the falcon and free wheeling dove,
Over the farms set in eventide charms,
Flailing with desperate arms.
A frog in the aether held up by his leg,
Petrified through to the point he would beg,
For some brand of providence, new from the sky,
To answer his petrified cry.
A singing amphibian, wailing his woe,
There in the purple of eventide glow,
Praying for mercy with tremulous hands,
Over the emerald lands.
Send me a kite, or a ladder I say!
Here in my fix this unfortunate day!
Quaking in fear with a fate so austere,
Hung in the welkin so drear.
Quaking upon me, like prophets with God!
Flying in madness o’er valleys and sod,
Cut to the core by a scene I deplore,
I do not deserve this I’m sure!
Then from the shroud of a billowing cloud,
A goodly old stork with a friendliness proud,
Swept in assistance to carry the frog,
Down to his home in the bog.
Storky! My dearest! Your pulchritude clearest!
Take me away to the water that’s nearest,
In sooth I am tattered and brutally battered,
Here, with my wits nearly shattered!
Down to the land with prowess and command,
Brave aeronautics so gallant and grand,
Storky was gracious through airs very spacious,
Bold with his wings spread tenacious.
Out of his trouble, his neck in a bubble,
The frog was delivered from doom on the double,
Croaking that froggy in swamp very boggy,
Glad to be slimy and soggy.
