Wormboy Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

His mother saw her little worm
squeeze through the door of their dirt home
he wiggled, stretched, she saw him squirm
upon his head a brownish dome.
'And where might YOU', she said to him
'desire to elope to slyly? '
'Up to that treeline, at the rim',
said junior softly and quite shyly.
The mother thought for one brief second
remembering that weird disaster
which happened there, when freedom beckoned
to her own mate, her earthworm master.
He had ascended to the range
where cooling breezes blow you dry
and thought it rather odd, well strange
as he observed those beasts that fly
that none of them paid scant attention
to him who looked so fat and plump
they seemed to hold a bird convention
so Master worm sat by a stump
unwrapped the sandwich he had brought
was just about to take two bites
when he looked up, as he'd been taught
to watch the show of aerial kites.
He never heard the howling sound
a buzzard doing superspeed
the sandwich dropped onto the ground
(would later nourish one green weed) ,
and beak and worm were thus united
into the stomach he descended
and never ever was he sighted
in Wormwood Valley, where he ended.

So mother worm did one great wiggle
propelled her son into their lair
the boy had time for one quick giggle
he did not think this treatment fair.
So later when his mother slept
he quickly left, no steps were heard
that evening his mother wept
up on the ridge, a happy bird.

So, if you are a little creeper
it pays you to obey your Mum
'cause after all she is your keeper,
and little worms are rather dumb.