There was a fussy old toad, yes; some might call him, a curmudgeon, at soul.
When his ladylove died, he took it in stride, and sought someone else to pester.
Eventually, he came to our lake, and jumped on the Troll Bridge, quite blazon.
Trouble in his eyes, he met the trolls, eye for eye, and with strength, blustered.
“I’m King of the Hill”, he spat out, ignoring the clubs and frowns… all about.
Grandpa Troll looked at the toad, and got ready to do battle, quickly…at that.
I chimed in, “They’re renters my dear. You’ll have to fight me, it’s clear. So dropout.”
“And I’m too worn out, for a silly old toad, who jumps like a gnat, now, scat.”
“I’ll have this bridge”, he said, “I’ll fight you anywhere, so be very, greatly, prepared.”
“I’m worn-out”, I said, “But battle we will. I’ll win! So look where you tread, instead.”
I said,“You challenged me first, so I’ll pick the test, you’ll play Grandpa Troll at Chess”.
Amazement filled the toads eyes, but to my surprise, he took the bait. Rather smart.
Now Grandpa Troll is a whittler. “I’ll commission your own home bridge, if he loses.”
“At the end of the lake, you’ll have a home place. If you lose, you’ll learn to whittle!”
The old toad looked me over, and with a frown, then ask, “What good is whittling?”
“You could make a chess board like no other, Toads verses Trolls, in war forever!”
He agreed that was quite a stake! And knew he couldn’t lose, the old reprobate!
Still he haggled, to strike a better bargain, and he Hee Hawed around for more.
Now, Grandpa Troll had never lost a game. Still we upped the ante, just the same.
“If you lose, I’ll build you a home bridge… if you teach the youngun’s, chess, instead.”
Now, he was sold! So off they did go, playing chess and whittling, by the seasons.
You know, I’m trying to be a writer, but the interruptions seem to always get harder!
So as you can see… With situations and things such as these …
I’ll just have to keep trying harder, and harder…