Battle Of Wits With An Unarmed Snake Poem by Patti Masterman

Well, boil my skull in a vat of oil,
And let that serpent then uncoil;
Though he beat me once, now this is true
By uttering foul words, so uncouth.
But this time around, I'm better armed
Against his wily, serpent charms:
I've got the batter, and I've got the griddle
Goin'ter fry up that tough old critter
I've heard some tell, it's finger-lickin'
That snake tastes just like fried chicken;
So I've got my secret seasoned sauce-
That shoe-leather's gonna know who's boss!