Songs of the Frogs, With Flair and Ordinary

by R. Gregory Shaw

The frogs of Panama would gather in the tropical twilight

for doo-wop night,

a great convention of cold-blooded cantors,

an accapella battle of the amphibious bands.

A scientist of the Smithsonian sits, listening,

(seeking, perhaps, remedy for romantic woes of his own)

while the randy moans richochet into his microphone.

What works? Baritone, alto, falsetto? What puts a twitch in the frog maiden's knees,

propelling her to pick a particular Lothario?

The trick is a sort of hiccup,

or in frog fanciers' terms, a chuck,

a quick "dit-dit" between the long, soulful "twooo."

It's a secret that Elvis knew,

that hitch - almost choke - that helped Buddy Holly to the fore

(in a field full of crickets).

The more often a male's hopes seem to trip in his throat,

the more likely the ladies will notice.

Alas, there's a catch the boys should know.

Glibly employing such vocal smarts

may have consequences the heart best consider.

For bats have a taste for the flavor of frog,

and the stutter that sets frauleins a-flutter

broadcasts a blip on mammalian radar.

Nature is ambivalent towards the proud in the pond.

Often the fanciest croak

and are gone with the moonlight,

while love stumbles into delight with the most ordinary.

Copyright 1997, R. Gregory Shaw

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