The WMD

The weapon of mass destruction came—
A raindrop that didn’t stop.
An ant on the sand, his deadly aim,
And on it he hit with a plop.
The ant giggled “Hee” and lifted his head,
Then said, “Gee, gee, I am not dead.
But the weather is changing, dear, oh, dear;
These WMD’s fill me with fear.
First, breezes blow with powerful breath;
Then sun’s rays, oh, the rays of death.
That fog, called Kerry, it blinds me so,
I don’t know whether I live, or no.
The temp goes low, the temp goes high,
Destructive weather: I freeze, I fry!”
Then the tongue of O-bam’ quick leaped out;
“Home free!” yelled the ant, “there is no doubt!”

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