CATAPULTS
Now old Chuck Jones was driving out
One hot and dusty day,
And on a ridge he rested
With a map to find his way
When all at once a starving streak
Of scrawny brown’d he see,
A-running like his tail’s on fire—
Which in fact it seemed to be.

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And he found the red men fun.
It left them unprepared for change,
So now he has to run
Behind a gustatory treat
Whose taste he’s never known.
The landless red men cursed him so,
And on the wind they drone:

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Bebeep they say,
Roadrunners in the sky.

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You’ll want to hit the dirt.
There isn’t any need to, though,
‘Cause no one else gets hurt.
But if he stops to look around
Then standing right behind
This hapless fool you’ll see a bird
With one thing on his mind.

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Bebeep they say,
Roadrunners in the sky.

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His toenails made of krell
And he’s the bait and warden of
The Trickster’s private Hell.
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Bebeep they say,
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His face is drawn, his eyes are blurred
His fur is soaked with sweat.
One day he’s gonna catch that bird
But he ain’t caught him yet.
Coyote, change your ways today
Or once again you’ll fly,
For we’ve read Acme’s warranty,
And we know it is a lie.

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Bebeep they say,
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Matthew Joseph Harrington
September 20, 2007, 8:14 AM