The (appropriately-proportioned) Ballad of Chimichurri

September 19th, 2018

O mottled beak and pink, webbed feet
that wobble with my boots,
No earthly dangers could defeat
the fierceness of his poops.


And though his down be tinged with gold
don't brand him yellow-belly.
This duckling's jumped an inch, all told
to get into the jelly.


A mountain-duck by birth, he deigned
to live amongst the valley
and eat entireties of worms, and
all crumbs he can rally.


And I ken it's through these very feats
that Thursday's 56g
when added to his tonne of treats
is Monday's 71.3


His awesome mass is multiplied
by awesome wealth; it's testified
he vanquished all the pond's paltroons
and sleeps now 'top his won dubloons.


Yea, the price of valor's a lofty nap,
quack quack quack quack quack quack quack.


Also, aside from inspiring Vogon poetry, baby ducks also make excellent pets for people attempting to adjust their daily schedules earlier.

5 Responses to “The (appropriately-proportioned) Ballad of Chimichurri”

  1. Mocky says:

    That's pretty cute

  2. Nice words.

    Ghosts of Gilbert and Sullivan, methinks.

  3. hanbot says:

    Well feather me flattered, Mr. Flutney! :D

  4. I can't believe you missed out on "ducats". Wut dubloons!

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