SWINGING IN THE BREEZE

 
            SWINGING IN THE BREEZE IT WAS
            ON A WARM SUMMER NIGHT
            SWARMS OF BUGS, TURKEY BUZZARDS
            LOOKED FOR A PLACE TO LIGHT

            MAKING SURE TO LAND UPWIND
            TO AVOID THE AWFUL STENCH
            A BIRD SAT UPON EACH SHOULDER
            A MAKESHIFT, GHASTLY BENCH

            BOUND WITH A LENGTH OF ROPE
            AND A DIRTY SOCK IN ITS MOUTH
            A PREVAILING WIND SWUNG IT
            AS A PENDULUM, NORTH TO SOUTH

            RED STREAKS WERE EVERYWHERE
            MUCH TO THE BUGS DELIGHT
            SETTLING IN FOR THE EVENING
            THEY PROCEEDED TO TAKE A BITE

            MUFFLED SCREAMS RESOUNDED
            AS IT SWAYED IN THAT GALE
            WILDLY TWITCHING, CONTORTING
            BUT TO ABSOLUTELY NO AVAIL

            GIGGLES WERE HEARD APLENTY
            REALIZING WHAT THEY’D DONE
            IT WAS MISTER WILSON’S SCOUT TROOP
            JUST OUT HAVING A LITTLE FUN
        
            KETCHUP BOTTLES LITTERED
            THE GROUND AROUND THE SCENE
            A BAREFOOT BOY STOOD OUT
            IN THAT GUILTY TROOP OF GREEN

            A LOOK OF VENGEANCE IN HIS EYES
            SWINGING HIGH IN THAT TREE
            MISTER WILSON COULD ONLY WHIMPER
            AS SKEETERS BIT HIS KNEES
            IT WAS THEIR YEARLY CAMPOUT
            AND THEY ALWAYS PULLED A PRANK
            NOW PAYBACK WOULD BE TERRIBLE
            FROM A MAN WHOSE UNIFORM STANK!