I HATE TICKS

In  the city

For a week

No ticks there

A nice relief

 

Got back home

They were waiting

On a rock

Salivating

 

One bad tick

On my ankle

And my ear

As an example

 

I do not like

A tick or two

I do not want

One on my shoe

 

Or in my hair

Or on my cat

I do hate ticks

And that's just that

I HATE TICKS

Spent the winter contemplating

Planting flowers and speculating

My tick Rick was also thinking

Of the blood that he’d be drinking

He’s a patient thirsty bugger

In the leaves, he’s under cover

I am digging holes and planting

Rick is on my arm and panting

Just how generous a tick is he

He told his friends to visit me

One tick, two tick, are there more?

I hate ticks of that I’m sure

I HATE TICKS

Just today I saw a tick

He was sitting on a brick

In a hole, in the yard

I didn’t have to look too hard

So I poked him with a stick

And he ran away right quick

Down into a snow filled lair

Alive and thirsty as a bear

How dare you stay alive you creep

I’d like you buried, dead and deep

Frozen solid, gone forever

Don’t come back, and I mean never

I put my hand upon my ear

Because it itches

Let’s be clear.

Eight legs walking,

What a bummer.

My tick Rick is back;

It’s summer

Winter’s gone

And if I’m right;

Rick is wanting

Just one bite

Alas poor Rick

Was very hasty

Looking here and there

For tasty

I am quick to kill a tick

Especially

My good friend Rick

I HATE TICKS

I HATE TICKS

Oh my goodness, look at Rick

Digging in my arm to drink

Little biters chomping me

“Click” they say when I pull free

“Rick,” I said, “Old man,” said I

Have a grown up drink like rye,

Bourbon or a gimlet salty

Drinking blood is very naughty

Rubbing alcohol is better

You will find it so much wetter

Poor old Rick, he drowned right quick

One less tick to feed, I think

My tick Rick

Is never rude

while he’s waiting

For his food

He’s as patient

As a brick

After all he is

A tick

He is waiting

on my bed

In my shoe

or on my head.

My sister has

a tick named Jim.

We are both

Afraid of him

I HATE TICKS

I HATE TICKS

Rick is thirsty

He’s a bore

He can wait

Four years or more

For a leg

An arm or head

He’ll be ready

He’s not dead

Then there’s JIm

My sister’s tick

He wants his chance

To make us sick

I HATE TICKS

“I hate the woods,"
Said Rick the tick.
Only birds
Sometimes a rabbit
To satisfy my bloody habit.

What I want is arms
And legs
Teeming crowds and
Beer in kegs

Oh, my heart!
What do I see
A license plate
For NYC

In I go
And hunker down
Johnnie drives me
Way Uptown

I am dry
And need to drink
I bite his leg
His shin
I think

That is why
I never see
Very much of
NYC

I don't have time
I don't have fun
Johnnie shoots me with a gun