A skunk’s junk
Won’t fit in a trunk;
Because the elephant,
Who owns the trunk,
Remembers a time
When the skunk was a punk;
And how he stunk.
The skunk’s stripe he had died pink;
I think, to rage against the Man.
He had no plan;
And, now, he just wanted to slam-dunk his junk.
“No!” said the Ellie
“You are still a bit smelly;
And ‘I’ need my trunk,
You silly young skunk;
Why don’t you put your junk into storage?”
The skunk was shocked;
His little world was rocked;
He’d never seen a talking elephant before.
He turned his tail
And encountered a whale
That had storage
For sale,
In a shed,
In a tent,
By the shore.
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