Here’s a nonsense poem I wrote in 1999 during my last semester in college at The University of Alabama.
The Frog I Met
Running in the fields today,
I met a bullfrog in the hay.
Red with yellow polka-dots,
He was an odd fellow from an odd lot.
Frog never jumped while I was there–
He was too busy trying to grow hair.
“A hairy frog?” I said.
“Why, you’re already yellow and red.
Isn’t that strange enough, you think?
But, you’d rather have fur like a mink?
You would be different then, I’ll say–
But could you so peacefully rest on the hay?
Or would your life become ugly and mean
As dozens came to see the frog who’s not green?”
Then the fat frog piped up and said,
“I want to grow hair all over my head.
There’s nothing you can do or say
To change my mind now or any day.
I know I’m yellow and red,
But I’ll lie right here in my bed.
I don’t care how many creatures come to look–
I’ll not go away to live by the brook.”
“Poor Mr. Frog,” I said,
It’s enough that you’re yellow and red,
But to be fuzzy, too–
That’s even strange for you.”
“Don’t you fret,” the bullfrog croaked,
“I’m not a horse, and I don’t eat oats–
But it won’t bother me to be hairy, no sir.
It won’t bother me to be covered with fur.
I’ll be warm in the cold–
So long as I don’t go bald when I’m old.
‘Fuzzy Frog,’ they’ll say
As they watch me sleep in the hay.”
Then I said, “Well, dear frog,
I see you won’t be happy hopping on a log.
I guess there’s nothing else I can do
To make it clear, to convince you.
You’re set on having hair on your head
And spending all day in the bed.
So, I’ll end my visit here, and go.
Just remember, I told you so.”