Cockroach Pete Poem by Matt Pocock

There's a branch way up high in the great forest's leaves
There's a fungus that grows there, delicious and green
And all the ground bugs are in great ecstasy
For today it will fall, said an old prophecy

But young cockroach Pete, he was all confused
He'd never et nothing that hadn't been chewed
And he lay in the freedom of youth, and he mused
Why have all this fuss over nothing but food?

And he wondered why everyone had, by the by
Been so damn excited they'd lit up their eyes
And constantly looked to the heavens all night
For the succulent fungus to fall from the skies

But the old tramp called Stevie, he wouldn't give up
He stayed every night, with his sights set above
He thought that the fungus would change his bad luck
And all of the groundbugs chastised him for fun

But then when he died with his eyes looking up
They buried him under a rock in the mud
They took up his mantle, and looking above,
They praised the great fungus with nothing but love

The head of the bugs said that he was impressed
The tramp could be holy, he surely was blessed
They called him the fungus's son sent to death
And all of the bugs on the ground acquiesced

They wrote up commandments, they wrote them on leaves
Then stowed them away so that no-one could see
And all unbelievers were made to believe
And thus was dictatorship truly conceived

And young cockroach Pete, he was still confused
He'd never seen no-one that had been so used
And he lay in the prison of truth, and he mused
Why have all this fuss over nothing but food?