September 15, 2008
Thoreau on the moose: "The great American writer found nothing heroic in hunting the gentle creatures. Rather, he saw their killing as a great tragedy." [Via]
A Møøse once bit my sister.
Mynd you, møøse bites Kan be pretty nasti.
No abortion for the buffalo statue, mind!
I put her on a pedestal
And loved her from afar
Her shapely horns and hump-ed back
Seemed lovely, not bizarre.
She was so cold, so cold to me
Her heart seemed made of stone
She would not look me in the eye
Nor answer to my moan.
I waited, lovelorn, many days
She would not turn her head
By force I took her maiden's prize
And now, alas, she's dead.
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