The Crocalog you may recall
His lie in wait began to pall.
He thought of all Life Lessons teaches
Of waters blue and golden beaches
Or even swamps with fishy pong
That he could lie in all day long.
Off he set and gave no mind
To those that he would leave behind.
Responsibilities he’d shirk,
No thought he gave to his life’s work
That his career would go to pot
He plainly didn’t give a jot.
But, home is home when far away,
Our traveller found out one day.
He hankered for his soggy beck,
His life to salvage from the wreck.
He’s turned, retraced, o’er hill and foam
Each weary step and now he’s home.