A small and green but drunken frog
sat in the evening on his log.
He contemplated there on life
and wished he had a green frog wife.
He'd interviewd a thousand frogs,
kept diaries and detailed logs.
But never did he find the one
who'd rest all day out in the sun
and dream with him at night in bed
so this green frog was never wed.
One day he saw, down near the trees
a British subject. What a tease!
She was a trifle big but, well,
we cannot all live in a shell.
She chatted with the folks and then
there was a silence among men.
They looked at her, so did the frog
he sat, quite drunken, on his log.
He dreamed that if he ever were...
this was the girl. If frogs could purr! ! !
I saw it on the forum of course and didn't realise you had posted it here til Ted messaged me to tell me... wonderful H and you brought such a big grin to my face! Thank you...... of course, this frog has met her prince... :) t x
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very interesting,7! ! (^_^)