| How nice to be a crocodile |
| A-basking by the briny. |
| I'd lie and wallow all the day |
| Until my scales were shiny. |
| And when it grew too hot for me |
| I'd glither* in the ocean. |
| Then stretch out on the shore again |
| And smear myself with lotion. |
| Or having glithed, with jaws agape |
| I'd lie in shady cover. |
| And wait to have my teeth picked clean |
| By pluvianus (plover). |
| With days of dozing drifting by, |
| No need for haste and hurry, |
| I'd slowly put the world to rights. |
| Or P'raps I wouldn't worry. |
| Though crocs have other things to do, |
| As many as a million, |
| That's all the knowledge I possess |
| Of matters crocodilian. |
| * glither, v.t. to glide and slither simultaneously |
| © Leonard Morley 2009 |