paul Fido Once upon a time… Not so very long ago There was a frog called Paul, And Paul was purple, head to toe. Though Paul was a fine frog As a dear a little frog could be, His purple skin set him off… Thus his life’s central tragedy. Since Paul was friendless, And found it rather terrible, He invented ways to make the days Perhaps a bit more bearable. In time he learned to be content To pass the hours on his own, Feeling down, no doubt, but happy Honing what skills there are to hone, He learned ribbiting for one thing, Sunning for one more, But jumping high into the sky He hardly needed practice for. In these days Paul found himself Somewhat happy and somewhat sad, For still he longed for friendships Like the ones the green frogs had. Then one day, perhaps ‘round May, Paul was shocked to discover The prettiest frog he’d ever seen Had to his pond-side wandered over. “Hi there!,” she said, “I'm Frieda!” And Paul could scarce reply at all, “Errr… uhh… mm.. . ahhh… that is… Sorry – my name is Paul.” “Hello Paul,” she said at once, And smiled a smile wide “Today is the annual Frog-a-thon, Won’t you join us on the other side?” “Of the pond?” asked Paul, His eyes bugged two times normal size, “But the green frogs surely hate me! My purple skin offends their eyes!” “Well not mine,” she cooed, Laughing a little in surprise, “In fact I think you’re quite handsome, And for any girl a fine and worthy prize!” “I don’t know what to say,” Paul replied, Somehow knowing he would come, So Frieda turned to wink and call out loud: “Then I’ll see you there at half past one!” As she hopped into the distance Paul glowed from deep inside. Frieda was his friend now, And purple his newfound pride. The hours until the Frog-a-thon Seemed to melt away, Paul had been waiting forever it seemed, For today, his day of days. At half past one, not a moment later Nor a moment less, Paul emerged into the clearing, His nerves a frayed and knotty mess. As he approached the green assembly They all at once turned to gape and stare, “What o what is this?” they croaked, “What o what have we here?” “How funny!” they laughed, “His hues are skewed we say. What does he want from us here On today our Frog-a-ton day?” “I invited him!” shouted Frieda, “He’s my friend and yours now too, So treat him with respect, you hear? Or else I’ll have to deal with you…” Then from somewhere out of sight A croak deep as thunder rapt As the great bull frog bellowed: “Well o well - we’ll just see about that.” Then all the frogs lined up straight For the first contest of the day The fly-catching extravaganza Was mere moments away. Then it began! Tongues were snapping! But not a frog there could match The hundreds of flies in a moment Paul the Purple Frog could snatch. Next came the bellowing contest, And all through the pond, Creatures heard the deafening waves As Paul croaked like we hear giants yawn. Finally it was time for the most sacred Event of all the Frog-a-thon three: The jumping contest, highest wins, And Paul was ready - ready as can be. First the Bull Frog jumped, And high he jumped indeed. But Paul jumped higher than Any frog that day had seen. And so the Frog-a-thon ended, Paul had done what he came to do To show that purple, green or otherwise… He could what they did, too. So things had changed a bit ‘Round this particular pond, Green frogs and purple Will hereafter get along. As for Paul and Frieda, Those dearest of friends, They lived on in happiness, Together, ‘til the very end. 050126 ... crOwl bravo 050127 ... guitar_freak excellent! This poem brought a smile to my face 050208 ... silentbob paul mccartney. tonight i am seeing beatle paul mccartney 051027 ... raze close your eyes and he has the reassuring voice of harrison ford. it's a funny, eerie thing. 140425 ... raze he plays a mean upright bass, too. 150320 what's it to you? who go blather from