POEMS 'BOUT NEWTS
i like newts
i do.
it's true.
i like them
'cause they're nice,
and twice
a day i see them
peering out at me with eyes
the size
of sequins.
******
The witches brew,
it's said, i've read,
calls for the tongue of a
dog, a frog
(with all but the toe removed),
and wool of bat
-what's that?
and there are many other things you know,
you can throw
into the witches' mixing
-if you've got a fixing
to double, bubble, toil, and trouble.
hey - whatever shaves yer stubble.
But there's a certain thing
they say to put in the Pot,
and i say: "NOT!!"
for no way would I include this certain
thing to bring
into their bubbling brew..
-shame on you!
Their attempts at magic may be fruitless,
but those witches are gonna be goin' newt-less
if i have any say
in the way
that they make their satanic drink.
I think
that they'll have to find a substitute
for the eye of my salamander pal, the newt.
******
Land or sea, the Salamander he
is always making time for tea.
he drinks it, and he thinks it
might be better with a biscuit.
So off he goes to Galapagos
where he heard they make the finest doughs.
And he buys some supplies
for baking yummy pies.
But regretfully, he forgetfully
fails to get the thing that He
went all the way, in the month of May,
to get to include with his tea everyday:
a Biscuit! How could he have missed it?
Back at his pond, he pondered and yawned
and pondered some more, until it dawned
on him that He, was in need of some tea!
and his worry was replaced with an acute glee.
A pie he did make and then he did bake
and with his tea, he did partake
in a bit...
He liked it!
it was better than a biscuit.
And so, we now know
what a newt likes to do with his dough.
Ho-ho-ho!
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