On the bus it lurks,
That horrid little weevil,
Contemplates your kit
And thinks up something evil.
When you’re in the street,
You notice you’re a glove less
Which, wickedly, the weevil
Appropriated, loveless.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Cute rhyme! I thought this was going to be about that daredevil insect that rode a motorcycle and jumped over buses...you know, Weevil Knievel. -chuck