Oh, good, another excuse to post a silly pome. I've been saving a couple of them just for Mudcat, snagged off of an environmental literature discussion list.


Imagine this beast,
From the frozen northeast,
With his annual amorous crave-on.
Seduced by the toot
Of an engine en route
Into making a fatal liaison.

Conceive of his size
As he straddles the ties,
Unaware of the killer he's dating.
The honk of the train
Goes straight to his brain;
His mind's completely on mating!

Absurd? Of course:
But think how much worse it would be,
(And no words will I weasel)
If an engine tore loose from its tracks
When a moose
Made what sounds like the call of a diesel.