Ode to the Toad

Repeat of a poem I wrote several years ago.

Ode to the Toad

I am an old man with a story to tell

I have been around, so I know it very well.

There is a little critter that crawls on the ground,

He’s not very big, and hardly makes a sound.

To those in his world he seems a mighty brute,

His head is filled with horns, none would call him cute

A double row of spikes venture down his back,

And the end on his tail will give you quite a whack.

His tongue is mighty quick, when he gobbles up his prey,

He spits blood from-his-eyes, his foes to keep away.

I’m talking about horned toads man, horned toads,

Not a frog, but a lizard, found on Texas roads.

Cousins dressed in purple, can be found in the town,

With spikes-of-a-different sort, they make their rivals frown.

They run down the middle, they pass around the end,

They kick it through the goal posts, few can ere’ defend.

Many have their doubts, think they’re out of their league

And predict they will fail, at the end in fatigue.

Many teams have traveled to this cow town abode,

Horns and Bears and Badgers have fallen to the toad.

Razorbacks and Raiders have succombed to this critter,

Sooners and Buckeyes have stumbled in a twitter.

Look into your history and it may seem a load,

But the Rolling Crimson Tide, lost three to the toad.

So hearken all you nay-says, and read your history well,

The toad that lurks within your sights may ring your final bell.

When the season has been ended, with the last tick of the clock,

The purple frogs are sure to win, and none will dare to mock.

So fasten up your helmets, put on some extra fat,

Cause the boys dressed in purple, ‘gonna take you to the mat.

Talking about horned frogs man, the purple strength of will,

The ones who wind up champs, at the top of the hill.
 

 

By David L Warbritton Sr

(No copying without express permission from David Warbritton Sr.)