Thy small black eyes glow green in my headlights
Oh Possum! Thou hast chosen most unwise,
To cross the road on this, most dark of nights
Tomorrow thou will be collecting flies.
The brakes on my Windstar are might bit worn
They shant stop on a dime, nor quarter here,
And for your possum fam'ly I doth mourn,
Tonight, thou will become a blacktop smear.
The entrails from my deep tire treads shall be
Hard to removeth if they set too long,
Had it been day, I wouldn’t have squashed thee,
Tis almost like a sad old country song.
Although my tires now reek of possum funk,
I thank the gods that thou were not a skunk!
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