The toad only knows how to crawl,
He pulls no other strokes at all;
Which makes it difficult for the toad,
When he has to cross the road.
Once a year toads return home
To mate and spawn by the load.
(if it wasn't for the road)
Or to be more exact,
The cars that compact.
If it takes the poor old toad.
Ten minutes to cross the road
It doesn't take a statistician
To work out, it's a suicide mission.
Nothing could rival
Toad's sense of survival,
Toady does what comes naturally:
He doesn't look right,
He doesn't look left,
And if it's all clear (or not),
He doesn't bother a jot,
He just crawls out into the road;
And sooner or later, splat!
That's that,
Toad's flat . . .
It's the Code
Of The Highway Toad!
Copyright Bob Jones 2005
