One day I met a leopard who’d
Been up for most the night.
He said, “I haven’t slepard, I
Suppose I look a fright!”
And then he wailed and wepard, “Oh,
I’ve hunted till I’m sore!
I’ve crawled and creeped and crepard, but
The prey’s been so obstrepard! Why,
I feel almost decrepard! It
Is such a dreadful bore!”
A silly prey then stepard out,
Right out into the clear.
It put itself in jeopard. It
Was totally inepard. I
Propounded, quipped, and quepard, “What’s
It think it’s doing here?”
That leopard was no shepherd. He
Was really out for blood.
That hungry leopard lepard—but
The prey was quite intrepard, and
It rolled into the mud.
The leopard turned quite tepard when
Its prey behaved so crass.
It said, “I’m not too hepard on
A prey that’s not been swepard. I
Suppose I’ll take a pass.”
This tale is lightly peppered with
A moral that rings true:
The sillier a leopard gets,
The more a prey’s incepard wits
Get sharpened to decepard tricks
To give a picky leopard yicks
Instead of being stew.