Wolf pack

On my first day, I was pretty nervous.

My first day of entering binding service.

I find the location and look around,

When somebody comes to greet this poor, lost clown.

“Welcome to the Wolf Pack,

I’ll show you the ropes.

Hunting with us is a knack,

But I have high hopes.

Our formation has a hole,

Just jump right in.

Our target is a foal,

Rip and tear at its shin.

Followed by communal eating.

Scenery very panoramic.

Then, a feedback meeting

Improving the group dynamic.

Welcome aboard again.

Our motto: Fangs and brain.”


A real man

I was born in a log cabin that I built,

I did it while wearing a tartan kilt.

Being in the womb didn’t slow me down,

Because I’m a real man and not a real clown.

When I went to the elementariest of schools,

I trudged through enough snow to drown grown mules.

Sixteen feet, even in the summer,

For a non-manly man, that’s a pretty big bummer.

When I went hunting at the age of five,

I captured a bear sleuth, all of them alive.

Did it with my fist, not two but one,

With one it’s fair and much more fun.

In PE class when we jumped kind of high,

I jumped over the Rockies with my left thigh.

I bounced right back with the right thigh again,

Said “Hi!” to the captain of an aero-plane.

I climbed Everest and I did it fast,

I saw the top and I just went past.

Soon I saw sputnik, rusted and all,

I took a nap and I landed in Nepal.

This is what every real man does,

He does it just, you know, because,

He’s a real man and nothing less,

With nothing except win and success.