Ode To An Unnamed Poet

[ to the tune of My Favorite Things ] Raindrops on dew drops and ponds formed by puddles, Praising when phrasing bewilders, befuddles, Nice sounding lyrics that don’t mean a thing, This is what too much sun on your head brings. Horses short courses on bucking a rider. Who died, the fly or the spider inside her? Dropping your pants to go mooning at night, These are the thoughts when your head isn’t right. When the dog flees 'cuz the flea bites right there on his pad, I simply wrap up in aluminum foil 'cuz that cuts down on the rad. Nonsensical popsicles, strange yellow ice; If this were snow, would you still think it nice? You’re in a field standing there by a stream. Wake up! You are drooling and starting to dream. When the tree bark is collected in a bag of mulch, I dump it all out on the new flower bed and throw the bag in the gulch. Mowing the roses and drowning the kittens, strangling puppies with strings from your mittens. Things that you think when your fever won’t break. Just how much more of this nonsense can you take? He confuses, Runs off muses, I amuse myself. I get all my books down and dust them all off And put them back on the shelf.