Flesh eating moose

Nine hundred pounds of hairy and smelly,

Muscles everywhere except on its swollen belly.

The head held high and two feet higher,

Horns of steel sharp like razor wire.

The part that’s abnormal is in its hard head,

A normal moose doesn’t want you dead.

Flesh eating moose is a northern quirk.

For a thing so big, it knows how to lurk.

When you’re picking berries blue or cloudy,

It’s behind the bushes just thinking “Howdy,

You look tasty with your tender meat,

The last thing I’ll eat are your tiny feet.”

Seventeen thousand people in a year,

Succumb, in the forests, to the ancient fear.

It’s no wonder it’s a god in the north.

Just his image brings our tears forth.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s