The nutter cries, as he sits
Upon a chair with twizzled legs.
The twizzled chair a favour begs.
When this favour is rejected,
The occupant is soon ejected.
Shooting through the air, this freak
Was flying for about a week.
Then he landed in a hole,
And he chose to be a mole.
The mole then tunnelled through a wall,
And came out in an empty hall.
Though empty, there were people there,
With armour, mead, and facial hair.
One of them got quite annoyed,
And claimed he was the Viking Freud.
He saw the hole, and got depressed.
He said the mole must be obsessed.
This, of course, made no sense,
So the mole dug through a fence.
Through the fence, a rabbit stood,
Wearing a black cape and hood.
Claiming he was Rabbit Death,
He took away the mole�s last breath.
�I�m not a rabbit!� the mole complained.
�Doesn�t matter�, Death explained,
And, taking the form of a mole,
Swiftly reaped his little soul.
The afterlife, I�ll have you know,
Was not where he wanted to go.
The mole�s spirit haunts me still.
I dread to think it always will!
