Tale of the Flea
They should make people take a test before they let them buy pets
Like old Mcgill on the hill he’s as crazy as a person gets
He frees every pet that he buys and he buys and he buys without guide
No one is sure how many he gets, how many he’s had,
how many he lets, No one is sure if the rumors are true
He lives at towns edge in an old paint chipped victorian house
At the end of Ames Lane in the woods like a grouse
In town they say he’s crazy as noon tea
and spends his time writing a near fantasy
A story for each pet that he’s freed
and in them each one becomes history
Now come closer and sit at my table,
I’ll share anything that I’m able
Though forgive my whispers,
there are many misters
and madames that don’t get it .
This is just one story of such a pet
Though short and small as curious can be
It’s of a flea, and his name was Ned
He was the grand master of the flea circus
An astonishing chap of no circumstance
Until McGill owned the Ringling Jamboree
You see Ned always had a glorious flea dream
And told Mcgill, or so it would seem
For one windy day
McGill placed Ned on a leaf
and the wind lifted that Ned away
Now listen it’s just like I said,
that crazy man he freed every pet
And every pet has a story he keeps
and sometimes they grow to the streets
Through his house walls and out to the lawn
and over the fence and still growing on
Now this pet became quite the to-do
little Ned flea saved the Queen from a Coup
The leaf landed on her step with a touch
She stopped, bent, and she peered
seeing . . .what?
Ned performing songs
and tricks of the circus
while chamber whispers grew
and trusted shadows leered
Upon his leaf with flames and whips
Ned The Gigantic and Revered
And in her heart for the first time in ages
the queen cheered She rejoiced
they say she she even cried
while the lady in waiting
she sighed
And the poisoned dart
landed . . .
just high and wide
Like old Mcgill on the hill he’s as crazy as a person gets
He frees every pet that he buys and he buys and he buys without guide
No one is sure how many he gets, how many he’s had,
how many he lets, No one is sure if the rumors are true
He lives at towns edge in an old paint chipped victorian house
At the end of Ames Lane in the woods like a grouse
In town they say he’s crazy as noon tea
and spends his time writing a near fantasy
A story for each pet that he’s freed
and in them each one becomes history
Now come closer and sit at my table,
I’ll share anything that I’m able
Though forgive my whispers,
there are many misters
and madames that don’t get it .
This is just one story of such a pet
Though short and small as curious can be
It’s of a flea, and his name was Ned
He was the grand master of the flea circus
An astonishing chap of no circumstance
Until McGill owned the Ringling Jamboree
You see Ned always had a glorious flea dream
And told Mcgill, or so it would seem
For one windy day
McGill placed Ned on a leaf
and the wind lifted that Ned away
Now listen it’s just like I said,
that crazy man he freed every pet
And every pet has a story he keeps
and sometimes they grow to the streets
Through his house walls and out to the lawn
and over the fence and still growing on
Now this pet became quite the to-do
little Ned flea saved the Queen from a Coup
The leaf landed on her step with a touch
She stopped, bent, and she peered
seeing . . .what?
Ned performing songs
and tricks of the circus
while chamber whispers grew
and trusted shadows leered
Upon his leaf with flames and whips
Ned The Gigantic and Revered
And in her heart for the first time in ages
the queen cheered She rejoiced
they say she she even cried
while the lady in waiting
she sighed
And the poisoned dart
landed . . .
just high and wide
posted by Baron Von Justa at 7:36 PM
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