image from Hope at pinterest.com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Paul the squirrel tucked acorns 'neath his chin, dreamt of tides and boarding in~ a tail for rope, a nut for gold, his oak ship creaked, both brave and bold. So Paul climbed the mast so vast~ Oak tree rigging, held on fast. Acorn doubloons filled his chest, With whiskey in paw, Whispered, Aye, the West is best! But storm clouds loomed—his tail went slack~ when oak-leaves turned his raft aback. Yet home he scampered, safe and spry, to stash his loot in his piebald tie.
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