Radioactive Frogs by Richard Stevenson
Ribbit… Rubbit… Friggit…
We’re radioactive frogs.
Don’t snap up insects on the wing
now we’re the size of dogs.
We let the swallows swoop down
for a gnat and skeeter feast,
then we snap them up on tongues
fat as fishing poles at least.
If we could pluck them first,
we wouldn’t have that tickle
in our throats to gag on
and our stomachs wouldn’t prickle.
Ever try to pass a feather?
I tell you it ain’t funny.
It itches, it scratches, it scrapes,
and soon our eyes get runny.
All cos you human fools
dumped your radioactive waste
in our bog. Won’t it be great
when you all start to mutate?
Or maybe we’ll grow teeth
in a generation or three. Then we
could start in on human flesh.
Just think. Human legs – a real delicacy!
Yeah! Ribbit… Rubbit… Friggit:
three froggy muskateers. We’ll learn
new consonants and fricatives … Ba RAP!
Hope you do-on’t give us heartburn.