Who lived in a miry bog,

Waking each morning in a terrible fog,

(due to the vast amounts he drank each night of his favorite grog.)

Awakening one dawn

With a mighty yawn

He stuck out his tongue

And caught a big prawn.

Much better, the thought, than

Mowing the lawn,

As I used to do for the princess

Over whom I did fawn.

So on his lily pad

He sat and h...