When grasses grow from black to gray and wet with dew,
The awkward totter of the limping god comes tramping through.
The mocking cackle of the laughing god
And misty eyed Sounds Perfect scurrying too.

Then humans ought to show a little sway;
Like Nudge One Inch growing less immaculate every day,
And Silky Ears and All Over The Place too
Who talk too much with nothing much to say.

“I wonder why I built these beasts?” says Limping God
“These out-of-kilter cocky, smelly clods.
And yet they’re lovely in a slanted way.
I have a thought to thicken up their blood.”

Sounds Perfect wept to see such devastation,
While laughing god fell into furious cachinnation.