Here is my little ode or opus.
I'll use some magic or hokas pokas.
Then rid my little neck of the woods..
of orange barrels, once and for good.
I swear these things are great big orange rabbits.
Multiplying by the hundreds, a nasty habit.
Because everyday I go to work.
A hundred more I spy with irk.
So if I could have a little silence please.
While I conjure a little diablerie.
Hokas, pokas, opus, carol,
rid my world of barrel peril.
So I can get to work on time,
and get back home before dinnertime.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem