The Pterodactyl

The pterodactyl

Can be rather docile;

A quiet contemplater is he.

Wise pterodactyl;

He lives on his rock pile,

Shunning bustle and community;

Polishing his claws,

Humming without pause,

Often slipping into dormancy.

The pterodactyl

Is wholly without guile;

A solitary wisher is he.

Round pterodactyl,

Fat his chosen life style;

A monumental fisher is he.

Indifferently

Allows men to breathe ;

They taste most un-fishlike, you see.

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Don Quixote

Don Quixote's in the parlor

Stiffly in his armor

He doesn't want your tea

Says he vainly fought some giants

But has no complaints

"It was a day's work for me"

I told him, "Crazy little punk

You're a fool for all that spunk

Why not go home, you're tired now

That lame old horse is dying

And Sancho Panza's crying

Please release me from my vow"

Don Quixote Don Quixote

de la Mancha

Tired of your mantra

Go on home Don Quixote

All the world is a minefield

And you're going to have to yield

Go on home now and take your bed

You don't know cows from great monsters

Citadels from dumpsters

Your impossible dreams have fled

Dulcinea the simpleton

Has reduced you to a crumb

And your lance has become a crutch

I know you're a pious man

But you've stood your final stand

You're like a van without a clutch

Don Quixote Don Quixote

de la Mancha

Tired of your mantra

Go on home Don Quixote