Putting Things On Toads
Toads are not easily put upon
it seems. They have much higher
aspirations and toady dreams.
They’re not just hopping
madly on and are disgusted
if you mistake them for frogs.
So don’t just dump any old crap
upon their scaled and toady backs.
They’ll tell you too fuck right off.
They are toads, dignified toads:
descendents of landed gentry
of famous literary record.
Indeed Him, with his Hall.
Toads, it’s not just croaking
and bulging eyes at flies
and being turned down
by Paul McCartney
for his animated ‘80s Chorus.
(Which was clearly discriminatory.)
Toads – they’re dignified creatures.
With strength and determination,
flicking out tongues and potentially
squirting poison. Stout in stature,
proud of posture – much more so
than those squiddling wet frogs.
They wear their swarthy warts
like a gangster’s battle scars.
They’re no clean-living, anti-septic,
de-sexualised boyband amphibians.
These toads – they get theirs.
They’re not waiting around
in pathetic desperation
for whingeing princesses to lower
their expectations and pucker their lips.
Toads, they’re not for putting upon.