The Lay of Lord Florg Fletchley Belch

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     The Lay of Lord Florg Fletchley Belch

( Being a poem composed by a frog, translated into human. )

First, an example of the original poem, written in frog, followed by the human translation for your scribal scrutiny and writty critty:

Ribbit, ribbit, ribbit, croak, gulp, ribbit, belch,
gulp, ribbit, ribbit, ribbit, burp, belch, ribbit, ribbit, ribbit.
Crawk, crawk, gumph, ribbit, ribbit, umph, crawk,
glug, morg, crawk, ribbit, ribbit, ribbit.

Winter kip over,
sniff lily, lick clover,
I splutter and squelch,
and this is the lay
of Lord Florg Fletchley Belch,
that being me,
now lightly and springy,
still yet no buzz
from the bright stingy bee.
I am big frog and old,
far older and bigger
than amphibian relation,
for your explanation, the toad.
In back garden pond I dwell,
not reedy river, swamp splodge or well.
Leap on the pad of fair lily,
sniff fronds, slimy and frilly,
smell on the grass, new mown,
belch over petals,
slime over seeds, fresh sown.
Cat, owl and magpie
annually try
to gobble me whole
on the grassy grass,
under the bird twittery sky,
but for them, with hold back and caution,
I am too fast,
and slippery, too.
With a leap and a croak,
I am back in my pond,
submerge my head with good soak,
danger is past.
Ah, I remember the tiddler time,
when I was a wee tadpole,
to be big frog, my only goal.
Now I croak and belch that I am,
muchly to my amphibian mirth,
my belly weight and girth.
Happy am I as toothy beaver,
new builder of twiggy dam.
Many a frog is a poet,
not even a newt may know it.
There was Willy Shakeleaf
and Jonny Millconic,
who wrote epic frog verse,
super and sonic.
Far more worthy are frog folk
of sonnet, lyric or ode
than wriggly grass snake,
slow worm or toad.
We can write witty critty,
get down to the nitty,
slurp sure in our muddy abode.
From serious squirm,
from one higher than worm,
light relief,
from an old croaky frog on a leaf.

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