Don't let my fender
Be a hinder
Don't let it bruise
Your legs in blue
If you get cross
Don't cross the street
I'd be a fool
If I were you
Stuck to my bumper
Are bumper stickers
If you don't fit in
You'll have to move quicker
Down the rabbithole
There was a rabbit
It runs away
If you don't grab it
I can't control it
It's a bad habbit
If there is hunger
I can but ravish
All thats left is battered bone...
And these rolling rodents roam
In my dusty dried out tomb.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem