Harry the Hamster
Harry the Hamster
was a cute little pet
'till the day that
into a pot he did get
Not a pot of soup, mind you
nor a pot of beef stew
What Harry got into
makes most hamsters blue
Not a pot of potatoes
or a pot of rice
That might have turned out
quite frankly, quite nice
Neither a pot of porridge
nor a pot of boiled eggs
a delicacy for which
he would normally beg
No, what Harry got into
inexplicably, you see
was a pot of real pot --
almost pure THC
Harry snarfed it all up
in an aggressive way
thinking perhaps, 'twas
a kind of brownish hay
He licked his chops
then backing away
plopped right on his rump
in the clumsiest way
Once back on his feet
he tried to advance
only to fall right down
on his face and his hands
I saw Harry was down
down for a while
I felt badly for him
As if he was my child...
I looked on with horror
as Harry trembled and shook
knowing the danger of
what that hamster had took
Well, for hour after hour
poor Harry lay on the ground
whimpering and sweating
'till he was finally rundown
He fell asleep by and by
and when he woke up
I teased him, 'Hey, Harry,
Here's a pot from which to sup...'
Now that did it for poor Harry
He sure didn't tarry --
Bolted right out the door
~ to be seen nevermore
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
