I Do These Things…

…so you don’t have to. Driving into town this a.m., I began singing (if “singing” is the word for it) a little ditty that popped into my head for (literally) God only knows what reason:

On top of some carrots, all covered in mud,
I shot a “wabbit” for old Elmer Fudd.

I cooked it with pepper (it tasted like hare),
Poor Elmer just sat there; he could only stare.

“I ate all ‘your wabbit’,” I said with aplomb,
“‘Cos you didn’t shoot it; now sit on your thumb.”

OK, I was really close to town by the time I started, so I didn’t even finish the thing, but there you are: my mind, coffee-deprived.

Yeh, yeh, I know the fourth line doesn’t scan well. Oh, the syllables are right, but the emPHAsis is wrong. So sue me for all I made outa the lil ditty.