Ode To A Frog
He slurs and burps in Marshy Fronds,
by Andree Quarles
A Bandolier, all night long.
His alto Voce may be a croak,
He seems to be a happy Bloke.
Ay yes, my friends, you've Pavarotti,
But as for me--I'll take Froggi
Red Cat's Poem My name is Red and I was not well fed,
One reason for joining the Army,
I arose at dawn and went to bed,
But not when I took it into my head.
We did it bivouac in the Army.
I was ready to go when the bugle they blew.
One had to keep up in the Army.
"March, stay in step, You Son of a Gun."
They kept me continuously on the run.
The Army was rough; it was tough,
And my stipend half pay, still
I can truthfully say
Life was not too bad in the Army.