My squirlbush is an undercover spy--
Hidden under a grand aka...
Writing the baiting words for surrender...
Is for him just a day of game play;
He alerted me to the awareness of potpan...
Squirlbush directed my eyes--
Into the direction of boxes...
Thank God for undercover spies;
Thank you Squirlbush for the alarm...
Sending the ammonia far far away--
Clobhammer knows hes in hot water today--
Scalded-but wonder if he still can come out and play.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem