In a fray or in a scrimmage,
Groo projects a stupid image,
People say he's in a cloud-
(but do not say it very loud.)
Groo they know form here to Sheba,
Has the brains of an amoeba.
In this world, They say you will find,
No creature will a smaller mind.
Is there one? We had to know-
And so we studied high and low,
Searched the mountains and the plains,
For a soul devoid of brains.
Finally we found last summer,
One, It might be said, was dumber.
It's a dog who courts disaster,
Choosing Groo as his master.
No comments:
Post a Comment