Yeah Wight!
Once there was a wancher, his name was Wicky,
who lived in a land that was hilly and wocky.
His fwiend was a wild wabbit he named Wosey,
this wabbit was scwewy and always too nosey.
One day a wattle snake, who we’ll call Wandy,
had a fetish for wabbit and Wosey was handy.
He slithered up, tongue flicking at Wosey’s cage,
at this time cwazy Wosey became filled with wage!
She gwabbed his neck and wang it weally hard,
his scweam echoed acwoss the whole barn yard.
Word spwead fast of Wosey, The Wattler Wangler,
people came miles to see one called The Mangler.
A wattle snake handler, offered Wicky a deal,
for Wosey to westle wattlers in the wing for weal.
Wicky wasn’t too sure, that Wosey would agwee,
to do battle with wattlers for the public to see.
Wosey indicated she was willing to give it a twy,
so she entered the wing and the wattlers did fly!
They landed in the cwowd and the panic began,
people scweaming and wunning fast as they can.
After all the dust settled, only Wosey was left,
so Wicky took Wosey, back home to her nest.
They settled back down on the wanch that night,
as coyotes and cwickets sang in the moons light.
Back to normal life for this home on the wange,
yet Wicky noticed Wosey, acting a little stwange.
When out of the blue came one, two, thwee, four,
then came five, six and seven to add to the score.
Forty to be exact, as Wosey let out a big woar,
see shook her head, by golly, twenty thwee more!
Sixty thwee baby bunnies, a bouncing in the hay,
no wonder the wattlers had no chance that day.
As a mother to be, her instincts were so stwong,
that no way any pwetitor would last for too long.
The mowal to this story is, for one always to beware,
don’t mess with Mother’s nature, you’ll lose by a hare.
E. Fudd