We are now  going to revisit a small spot, a small dip in the road, a small vale almost overlooked before traveling on with our four friends:  Floppy-eared Boy, Floppy-eared Donkey, Stump Woman, and Sherpherd of the Crook Eye.  We will pull back a segment recently appearing on Generation X website, run by Jennifer James in Oklahoma City.  The following had appeared, at Jennifer’s request, a little over a week ago:


Big Croaker rolled in the last midge of his dinner

For it would soon be time fornight’s rivetting chorale

For, you see, Big Croaker is the new winner

The new top boss of Big Pond morale.

Oh, yes, bow low, all peppers, all thinner

All multitudes, vast crowds, even to SoCal.


Rivetting as his vast band should be,

Big Croaker soon grew boared with so many lowly peeps,

Now Bigg Frog bulged eyes and sprang to tree

Up on the hill above Big Pond, all the better for reaps

Of richer, juicier bugs of  the night awaning in lee,

For, you see, Big Croaker would always want more in leaps.


But, wait, halt–what is this little parade below?

What is this man, this donkey, this girl on the road?

What is this parade of the evening on a quest to tow?

What is this parade, of low esteem without Big Toad?

Oh, yes, this parade must have Big Toad leading the row?

How else would any quest be worth the load?


So no Big Croaker hopped with throat blown up,

All ready to lend some glory to man and donkey and girl,

Big Croaker only could give these three the proper shine up,

The proper line up with proper flippings of that tongue in curl,

So  bulging were Biggie’s eyes at hopping out,up,out,up,

He never saw Caterpillar dropping from limb to saddle’s burl.


Until little Cattie  whispered in his fuzz, “I will go, I will see,”

And then did Big Croaker hop higher, croak louder, blow bigger:

“But I am the leader, I am the Biggie, you fake bee!

“I will lead the quest, I know best, snigger, snigger.”

Then did Little Cattie wriggle and snug, just content to be

Riding on the trip of the ages, not heeding Croaker trigger.


So Big Croakie blew harder and hopped higher

Until little donkey’s hoof did fling him into ditch,

Blinding him with mud and dulling Croaker to Sigher,

For now Croaker was choked with a stitch

Of pain in the throat that once ruled the mire

Of Big Pond, now forgotten in night’s pitch.


Little Cattie snugged in girl’s robe, holding truths under starlight,

“Oh, yes, I hear the song, oh yes, I see the wings.

Oh, yes, I am little, I am only one,I have no might,

But I am riding to Bethlehem with things

No home could make so right,

Riding to Bethlehem held by the mother of God’s son.


NOTE:  When our four friends, listed above, continue on their own special road, they will be surprised by the Shrub Girl, who can smell over great distances!


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