Bullfrog Song

 

When frogs with springtime calls are spent

There comes that megaphonic rant

From swamps where bullfrogs can be found

(And even sometimes where they can't):

Their late-like-all-regrets lament

Of round and round and round and round.

 

A bullfrog's heard it all before

round and round and round and round

A bullfrog knows the grief in store

round and round and round and round

And they all join in if one will start

round and round and round and round

There's never a hope in a bullfrog's heart

round and round and round and round

 

They're bassos in their cattail lair

With voices cracked beyond repair

And bulging eyes atop their head—

But don't think bulls are looking up;

They see what's coming and what's fled;

They grieve and earn the green frogs' Yup!

 

The bullfrog sees no end in sight

round and round and round and round

He sulks by day harangues by night

round and round and round and round

He's never had less than more than enough

round and round and round and round

So stop the world and he'll hop right off

round and round and round and round

 

The bulls give out.  There's scarce a sound.

And dare we ask what the bulls have found?

Maybe hope? In the moonshine, a glimmer?

A firefly's worth in the swamp's June simmer?

No! The first unburdens his heart with a round

And they all fall in with round and round and round.

 

How long does a bullfrog live?—Too long

round and round and round and round

His baritone dirge is a courtin' song

round and round and round and round

For every turn of the Earth brings just more sorrow

round and round and round and round

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow—and tomorrow

round and round and round and round