I peeped through leaves of verdant green,
tiptoed on fairy feet,
praying I wouldn’t once be seen,
chewed into luncheon meat
by foulest creature, fierce and mean.
I’m blowed if I’ll be obsolete,
a heap of guts and spleen.
I prance right up, so indiscreet,
with derring-do my screen.
“How do you do, my dear,” I bleat.
I pray the thing will swoon and preen,
be indisposed to eat;
it speaks: “You’ve brought your Vaseline?”
I gaily send my tweet:
Who’s tweaked the sweetest griffin queen?
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