glad Schwesinger, Mean Squirrel</head><body><center><center><img src=http://www.saviodsilva.com/p1.gif border=0 alt=Saviodsilva></center><hr color=3C00FF size=4><br><font size=4 face=arial><b><a href=36.htm>glad Schwesinger</a></b></font><br><center><img src=http://www.saviodsilva.net/poem/a/1.JPG border=0 alt=Poem></center><br><font size=3 face=arial><b>Mean Squirrel</a></b></font></center><blockquote><blockquote><p align=left><font face=arial size=2><b>We were on holiday in the mountains. I saw a red squirrel in a tall Douglas Fir tree cutting cones. He was growling all the while. He was so stern and so mean acting. I wrote this silly poem.<br>That mean squirrel growled at me<br>Now he climbs that big fir tree<br>From high above he growls down<br>He sends a fir cone to the ground<br>I snatch it up so very quick<br>I toss it over into the creek<br>Now he is searching all alone <br>He can't find his old fir cone<br>Up that tall tree he climbs<br>Down comes a cone right on time<br>Again I snatch it up so quick<br>Again I throw it into the creek<br>Again he comes to search around<br>One more time no cone is found<br>A third time he climbs the tree<br>A third time growls down at me<br>Again down comes a fir cone<br>Again he comes to the ground<br>Once more I snatched it up so quick<br>Once more I threw it into the creek<br>And as I turn to walk away<br>I look back at him and say <br>Have a nice day</b></font> </blockquote></blockquote><hr color=0000ca size=3><center><font size=2 face=arial><b><a href=http://www.isavo.net/poem/sk3.htm>This Poem's Index Page 1</a><br><a href=http://www.yensa.net/poem/sk3.htm>This Poem's Index 2</a><br><a href=http://www.isavo.com/poems.htm>Poetry Website</a><br><a href=http://www.saviodsilva.com>Saviodsilva</a><br><a href=http://www.isavo.com>Isavo Site</a></b></font></center><SCRIPT LANGUAGE=JavaScript SRC=http://www.saviodsilva.org/r/fantasy.js></SCRIPT></body></html>