I think I'm just gonna log out...
So what most of you don't know is that a certain someone (to whom I am replying) wrote to me to tell me how moved he was with my contribution to automotive poetry. I was then asked (more like begged me), to have something written about him and his heritage, so here you go....
There once was a raccoon named Jack,
With a mischievous look on his back.
He lived in the woods, Where he roamed and he could,
Never once taking a break from his track.
His fur was as black as the night,
And his eyes shined so bright,
He was always on the move,
With a sense of adventure to prove,
That he was the king of the forest, all right.
Jack loved to climb up high,
On trees and on telephone wires, he would defy,
All the danger and fear,
With his cunning and his daring clear,
He was always up for a climb and a try.
He was a thief and a scoundrel too,
Stealing food and then running through,
The forest with glee,
Never caught, never seen,
He was the raccoon who got away, that's true.
So here's to Jack, the raccoon king,
With his mischievous ways, he'll do anything,
For a thrill and a fun,
Under the sun,
He's the raccoon who'll always do his own thing.
.... Patiently waiting for the next line...
