Hasenpfeffer
There was a young hare, with way too much hair.
His fur snagged a grate, a fact not so great.
But he couldn’t bear to shave himself bare,
so he’ll have to wait till he loses weight.
I do not know when pride ever did win.
Escape before then? His chances were thin.
The process, slow paced when firm stuck like paste;
held up by his waist, it seemed such a waste.
On what’s this stew based? Hare braised in a baste…
Copyright © Jeff Kyser | Year Posted 2022
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