The other night I chanced upon an irate caterpillar
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He was irate he had a darting face
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Crinkled with old forms
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Appendage arms spread out fanlike glancing
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His string noise boxes
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The rest were a howling wolf
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Afraid to be left upright against sleeping forte
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Calling to the caterpillar
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Throughout the time span
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Wanting to be fed wanting attention
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Wanting waiting full of tension
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They don't crowd the spiderlike object
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They didn't object at least not many
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Just waiting for the next creak
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From his aching limbs to reach their brains through
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Cup-like objects stuck on the sides of their heads
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No-one joked no-one spoke
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They became embarrassed and planted contempt
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Under their haunches
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When the caterpillar rested
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His appendages ummed
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His appendages arred
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But not connecting with
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The string noise boxes
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And...
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They...all just gazed
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The other night I chanced upon an irate caterpillar (repeat)
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Irate Caterpillar
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Hugh Cornwell |