A little tyrant stirs within his quarters dark
The tune of piping voice my ear doth hark
He makes him ready out to traipse unto the lawn
And ask a dozen times whither the tractor's gone
My hours three of leisure have been quickly spent
When down I laid him quickly to my room I hent
And read a book with head upon a pillow soft
Which to my liking would I do so ever oft
This morning he had stormclouds gathered on his brow
And never did we see such congress of his wrath till now
When forth he let high shrieks and pounded tiny fist
Because we would not give him chocolate cake he wist
We took him to a company of gentle folk
And there we would in manners pleasing stayed and spoke
On matters sundry and made pleasant mirth
Except the tyrant raging for to split the earth
We took him high to fragrant slopes we know
Upon Mt. Wegmans where he list to go
And though an off'ring cookie we did make
He still would not forgive his lacking chocolate cake
And now from blessed naptime would he waking rise
That time thrice bless'd to parents for to prize
And I must suffer wrath of malcontented Bear
Who knows there's chocolate cake and knows exactly where
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