The Dying Squirrel

The other day, driving in my car, saw a squirrel running on the tar.
Was a living squirrel, yes, a living squirrel.
Had my arm cradled round my girl. Did not see the running squirrel.
Now was a dying squirrel. Do the dying squirrel...

It was my fault! I should have known the squirrel would panic there all alone.
Do the dying squirrel...
Such a cute thing with tail so bushy. Under my wheels he went so squooshy.
Do the dying squirrel...

Squirrels, I know, are nervous things. Always thinking what bad luck brings.
Always moving, and oh, so restless! From vicious dogs, so defenseless.
There are hard luck squirrels. There are bad luck squirrels.
Do the dying squirrel...

In the future, I take a pledge: If there's a squirrel on the road's edge,
If it jumps, does not go back, I'll stop the car in its track.

Save the dying squirrel. Do the dying squirrel...

Now your hopes have been crushed. Rage busts out when I am rushed.
Hope you rise to the Other Side where no cars take a mad joy ride.
Save the dying squirrel... Do the dying squirrel...

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Rod Mitchell