[Douglas G. Brown]

The Long-term Hazards of Bat Excrement

Twinkle, Twinkle, little bat,
A grotto’s where your sleeping at.
All day, while hanging by your feet,
You’ve bowel habits, indiscreet.

You know, you’re not the only one
Who lets this flow of feces run;
Ten thousand bats comprise your troop,
And every one’s condemned to poop.

Enumeration of these turds
Is way beyond this poet’s words;
But crapping in your habitat
Is filling up your lair with scat.

Your population’s facing doom;
You’re running out of sleeping room.
This situation’s gotten grave -
You’ll have to find another cave.