Long, long ago, in a happy little town
There was a happy street with a happy little house
And in that house's lawn there was a bunch of ground
And above all that ground was some sky and clouds
But these clouds were unusual; they loved to dance and sing
And nibble people's rooftops and steal shoelace strings
And change the rhyming pattern for poor members' rhymes
So the writer had to work harder to think up the next line
So the writer grabbed a skillet and left the happy house
Shook her fist up at the sky and shouted to those clouds
"You think you'll ruin my rhyme, you puffs!?
You precipitation and rainy stuff!?
I'll change it myself, to show you guys!"
And she hurled her skillet at the sky
Then, grumbling, went back inside
And changed the pattern of her rhyme
"Her rhyme! Her rhyme!"
The clouds all cried
"She changed it without us!?"
They grew so miffed
They howled and hissed
Then, suddenly, blew up
So now the clouds are gone at last
Sure, maybe it never rains
And maybe the lawn's full of dying grass
And the neighbors are back again
And people are pounding on my door
Waving pitchforks and sharpish things
Shouting, "What did you do that for!?"
My petunias! My garden! My weeds!"
And everytime I step outside
They throw vegetables at me
But at least shoelaces are safe again
And my poem is cloud-free!