Don’t get the idea or
any other sort of notion,
That there’s anything irrational about Eeyore,
His kind of pessimism is completely sane,
He would never wander down the lane,
Full of negative emotion,
With a face mask over his soft grey nose,
With it’s flimsy straps over his lovely big ears,
Eeyore might have his morbid fears,
But don’t ever suppose,
He doesn’t have a scientific mind,
If he wore a mask, he’d grow thinner and thinner,
For how could he find
Thistles for dinner?
Being a donkey, Eeyore farts at the very thought
Of face masks,
In the faces of those passing by,
And the notion anyone can tell him what he ought to do,
Unless they tell him, he ought to chew,
Onopordum Nervosum,
To which he might reply
Edo ergo sum.
No comments:
Post a Comment