An active eco-warrior he;
he loved all trees and frogs;
that's why, before he drowned, he upped
and shot the legs off dogs.
Apologies, Rusty. A spot of spoonerism crept in. As it does. Well-boiled icicles, raffia mats, the drain brain, that sort of thing. I've reached the ambling rage.
Thanks. I see now how well written. Please, call me (R) usty.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thanks for the explanation Michael, Yes, it's completely bonkers, we interfere in nature, then, we interfere a bit more...and then wonder why it all goes horribly wrong!