By: Ardis E. Parshall - August 05, 2014 The Centipede By Solveig Paulson Russell A centipede sat on a tumbling weedAnd cried till the ground was wet,“Because,” said he, “shoes come in pairsAnd not in hundreds yet!And so my feet are bare, bare, bare,And my toes are cold indeed,Oh pity the sorry, sorry plightOf a trembling centipede!” Along through the air came an oven birdAnd he heard what the poor bug cried,So he gobbled him up a...
Continue reading at the original source →