Martin, the swallow, flew low in a hollow
While eyeing a green millipede
He swallowed it swiftly, the bug went down miffedly
Declaring he soon would be freed
But with the morn dawning, the bird scorned the warning
“I’m early, the worm’s mine to eat!”
The insect, however, was fiendishly clever
And not for admitting defeat
“This birdbrain’s a dummy, I’ll tickle his tummy
He’ll find that I’m dreadful cuisine.”
One thousand steps later, the gut oscillator
Made it the bird’s turn to turn green
His flight turned erratic – darned near aerobatic
Just like his first try as a chick
Through uncontrolled turning, the rolling, the churning,
The insect it was that got sick
The influx of acid made Mart’s biceps flaccid
He started to plunge to the ground
Near the speed of a comet the fear made him vomit
And the bug returned home safe and sound
The acid expulsion restored his propulsion
His tailspin turned into a glide
He managed to master – four feet from disaster
The panic that welled up inside
“This may sound uncivil: this early bird drivel
Is something I hawkishly hate
Though you call me crazy or tell me I’m lazy –
Tomorrow, I’m getting up late!”