A tiny sports car sputtered in,
a snail was at the wheel.
The gas attendant, with a grin,
said, "Snail, are you for real?
I 'preciate your right to cruise
and that red color's swell...
and naturally I can't refuse
to serve you here at 'Shell'...
but, I must say it's odd enough
now, snail, you must confess...
for such as you to drive and stuff...
say, why'd you paint that 'S'
there on the door, the driver's side,
in glowing shades of blue?"
The snail rose up with stately pride
and said, "Hey you would too...
I'm tired of hearing people say
'there goes that lowly snail'...
and night by night and sunny day
you know, they'd never fail...
to laugh at me, my lack of speed,
until I bought this car,
but, see me now, my soul's been freed,
I'm pretty near a star!
They teased and snorted; mocked my pace,
my life was filled with woe...
but now, they shout, as by I race...
look at that S car go!!!"
© 2004 Dean Neighbors
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