Hey, look, something green, growing on me—
From hanging for ages in this ol’ tree.
It’s algae, I think; it looks pretty good;
Guess I oughta move—probably should.
 
Don’t do much of that—moving, that is;
Climb down once a week, when I need to whiz.
It’s tough, with long claws—to “walk,” that’s for sure;
I’d so love a good pedicure.
 
But I WOULD prefer to be on the ground
When giving birth—not hang upside down!
I guess we beat weird, yessir, by a mile
But ain’t this a dy-no-mite smile!