I ordered French fries for my alligator,
But he stated,
“I’ll eat them later.”
So I spoke up to the waiting waiter,
And said, “Please do me a favor.
Go and take the taters
Out of the fry-o-later.”
Then the waiter intently tried to hawk,
Soup in a crock
For the hungry croc.
But my gator didn’t like the knock
Of being called a dumb old croc.
“My pal is not a schlock,
So, no, to swill in a crock.”
The waiter whose name tag stated, Lyle,
Said without a smile,
“We only serve crocodiles.”
“Why the change, I asked Lyle?
We do not like this style.
A gator is a fine reptile;
Much better than a crocodile.”
So we stared into the waiter’s eyes,
That waiter’s guise.
That’s when my gator improvised
By catching Lyle by surprise.
He gulped him down, though oversized
Yet, much more filling than French fries