The h2g2 Poem
Created | Updated Nov 5, 2007
The Legend of Sir Toby Belch
Look out for the toad!
Don't crush his abode!
Said my mom as we planted our beans.
Toads bring you good luck
I don't want you to tuck
That amphibian into your jeans.
Why he's an old friend
Thick and thin 'til the end,
If you promise not to squelch,
I'll tell you his name
It might bring him fame,
I call him Sir Toby Belch.
Each year in the spring
In the garden he'll sing
His toadly little song through the night.
So give him respect
It's what I'd expect
You to do because it's what's right.
Each day when I'd roam
In the yard 'round my home
I'd look for the little brown guy
Sometimes he'd be there
By the garden or where
There were plenty of bugs flying by.
One of the worst chores
That made my hands sore
Was seeing the lawn was all mown
I was just a lad
And I was a tad
Too small for the mower we owned
On that fateful day
As I laboured away
Cutting grass with all of my might
I'd gasp and I'd sweat
It was hard not to let
My mouth open for air and respite.
When the mower went thump
And some sort of lump
Of mushy stuff soared 'tween my lips
All that I could find
When I looked behind
Was Sir Toby from toes to hips.
The shock made me swallow
And I felt real hollow
Even now it is hard to get by it.
It's not every day
I can honestly say
That toads are part of my diet
My mom noticed one thing
No more toadly singing
And said that she wished he'd return.
And I said that perhaps
He's visiting some chaps
Intending more songs to learn.
I added I too
Missed him a bit, yes it's true
Although I had not caught the harmony.
He seemed a good fellow
And I feel I must tell you
In a way he'd become a part of me.
