In the late Nineties
the UK tabloid press ran panic articles on how imported
American Bullfrogs were threatening the environment by eating fish and other pond life.
There were various forecasts of how large they would grow, how big their mouths were
and how much they could eat. It all got a bit silly, hence this poem.
I had a hungry tadpole, it was as lonely as could be.
It used to play with all its friends till it ate all ninety-three.
I watched it grow up all alone, I tried to be its friend.
I tickled its tummy with a wooden stick and let it chew the end.
And then one day, as I knew it would, it turned into a frog
And just by way of saying 'Thanks', it promptly ate my dog.
Well I was not impressed and made it plain that it really was unfair
But all it did was sit and eye me with a very malevolent stare.
"Okay, that's it!", I cried in rage, "That's the end of you!"
And my wife came out to lend a hand and yes, it ate that too!
What a shock! but to her credit, she didn't even jump.
She just went after the little fiend, waving her brand new stump.
Round and round the pond we chased it, till it stopped to belch
And that was when my size ten boot came down with a sickly squelch!
I had to cry - I'd lost a friend - I was impossible to console
Until my wife, gazing at the pond, said, "I think I saw a tadpole".
the above work is copyright David Axton © All Rights Reserved