The Lion's Tooth
The Lion's Tooth is heaped with scorn,
ripped, reviled, ravaged, torn.
Each spring reborn to man forlorn,
the Lion's Tooth is heaped with scorn.
Born of the grass with yellow amass,
some call him weed,
but I heed not their hateful creed
and I spread not their deadly feed.
On a summer's day, coiffed in gray,
he mounts his stealthy steed
and flies again to primal need,
forevermore to sow his seed.
The Lion's Tooth is heaped with scorn,
ripped, reviled, ravaged, torn.
Yet, to his true nature faithful sworn,
the Lion's Tooth shall ever adorn!
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