Squirrel Talk Poem by Ima Ryma

Up in a tree upon a bough,
A squirrel sat and looked around.
A stern look came upon his brow;
He quickly raced down to the ground.
The squirrel scampered through the grass,
While stopping every now and then,
To be assured of no trespass
Into his private wooded glen.
Each time he stopped, he'd dig a hole,
As though in search of something lost.
The squirrel should have been a mole.
More clumps of dirt got turned and tossed.

The squirrel paused and said, 'Tut-tut, '
'Where did I bury that damn nut? '