Where there once was a bug
Ill conceived as a thug.
Unable to work under the table.
Dug quarters from the in seams of a rug.
When swept away by an under-cut tug,
Found itself lounged in a froth-filled mug.
Freely frolicking with other slugs;
Within this tale of a jargoned jug
They chugged.
Was that throttled to be - a role model
Destined to topple a stiff-necked bottle?
Whose fate awaits as... the talk of the glass.
Read more articles by Arnost Vevoda or search for articles on the same topic or others.
