This Croakin's no Jokin

A chompin croak comin from the garden

With out a sign or sound of a pardon

An indication frog’s addin lotsa lard on

With them bugs he’s happily bombardin

 

That ain’t no smile he’s happily showin

It’s juices which have all startin flowing

As through the plants he’s gone elbowin

Where insects have his eyeballs aglowin

 

Long legs launch a lively, leaf-landin leap

Intendin to catch yummy insects at sleep

In addition, he has a cool capture em’ creep   

Either method garnishes a bug-baggin reap

 

With his big bulgin belly, filled to the brim

And lotsa new warts popin outa his skin

Tho’ munchy mosqutoes still hang from his chin

He’s not inclined to feel a slight touch of chagrin