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

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

“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