Eulogy to a Squirrel

By Katie, the PBGV Hunter

I found a squirrel,
His name was Fred.
l chewed him
On his little head.

“Drop that squirrel!”,
My Mommy cried.
It’s Squirrel Tartare.
I prefer them fried.

Mom grabbed Fred.
She threw him far.
I heard him hit
My Daddy’s car.

Oops.

I will miss Fred.
He took a lickin’.
Now I know
Squirrels taste like chicken.

Unknown's avatar

Author: Blind John Ellsworth

Blind John Ellsworth (1960- ), a (questionable) poet and sometimes Texas bluesman. He has recorded one spoken-word album (thankfully unreleased), since he is still trying to learn to play guitar. (Lack of musical skills is what makes him a poet and not a lyricist. Plus, he can’t write music.)

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