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Library: The Penguinslaying Song


Author: malacoda
Date:Sep 15 2006

Whenever I step out the door
I slash through penguins by the score.
Some try to fly, but some attack;
My blade dissects both beak and back
Until the ground is white and black,
But mainly red all over.

One day, they lay in wait for me
Atop a high and trackless tree.
They must have climbed it somehow, but
The stupid things, of course, forgot
Their silly flippers weren't so hot
For flying as for swimming.

When they attempted to descend
And cunningly to make an end
By stealth, since bolder tactics failed,
To my poor life, it ill availed;
(This song need not be too detailed
About the scene that followed).

Another time, they formed a gang,
And, armed with guns and bombs, they sprang
Upon me from an alleyway,
(Regardless of the fact that they
Had not the proper war array
For a medieval setting).

I thought that I was surely lost,
But grimly swore, at any cost,
To see the little buggers fry
And thus my life to justify.
(I do not fear, myself, to die
If I take penguins with me).

But I grabbed from a market-stall
Some fish, and quickly hurled them all
Into the mob; they lost their wits
And in their careless greedy fits
The bombs blew all the birds to bits.
(I got away with bruises.)

So as throughout the world I roam,
And even when I stay at home,
My vow, my one eternal quest,
Will not allow my soul to rest
Till each revolting penguin pest
Has been obliterated;

And what is more, till everyone
Whose heart beats free and brave, is un-
Relentingly against the horde,
That penguinistic smorgasbord.
My friends, strong arms and thirsty swords!
(And drinks all 'round. I'm buying.)