Once upon a time, there was a magic frog
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 he ate,
Saying silent thanks to the sweet witch
Who altered his fate.