Little garter snake, asleep in the rue,
Lost in your dreams so sweet.
one often wonders at how you do,
To cypher your thoughts would be quite a feat.
Tiny and toothless and without defense,
From felines on the prowl.
So you'll slither away beneath the fence,
Wary of felines, and canines, and the feathered fowl.
But for now you are content, in your red clay pot,
Dreams of grasshoppers in your tiny head.
Serene and peaceful in your personal cot,
As visions of six leggers run through your head.