Earl was an eccentric little rabbit,
Everyone made quite a racket,
He was as ordinary as you please,
Really a lovely fellow,
But there was always talk about,
Him wearing a long black jacket,
And his strange love for eating jello.
Some squirrels say his jacket,
Is to aide him in black magic,
He’s not normal,
And he must be up to tricks,
But the otters believe,
It’s just his blameless lucky charm,
And fits naturally to him,
As much as his own arm.
The rest of them,
All have their own view too,
So I feel I ought,
To clear things up with you:
He’s a fuckin gem!
His many weird habits,
Make him unlike the other rabbits,
Like when he ventures out of the woods,
To stock up on people goods.
While he is gone,
Others quake with fear,
As their minds produce some crazy thoughts,
Of things he may be getting up to,
He just buys innocent things,
Like spinach and whiskey,
And lugs them back,
In a big black sack,
But he keeps his doings on the down-low,
So they get freaked out,
By what they don’t know.
He’s quite the early bird,
Each morning he happily wakes,
Then after putting the coffee on,
Where he does a wild dance,
And the onlooking deer deem him absurd,
As they look on in a trance.
It’s not totally that tragic though,
See these deer don’t know,
He’s saying some words,
That encourage their meadow grasses to grow.
He won’t partake of his coffee,
Without first reciting a good-luck phrase,
That his mother used to hope,
Would be just a phase,
As it made her hair raise.
I’ll give you that,
Yes this could be a tad odd,
But it has done things amazing,
Like preventing a carelessly tossed match,
From setting their whole wood ablaze.
He grows alfalfa and carrots,
On all sides of his cottage,
And enjoys watching their progress,
During an evening sit,
On his wrap-around terrace.
It’s said he does strange things,
While out there each evening,
The Old Owl is always watching,
And says supposedly his lips move,
But put forth no sound,
And his crazy hand motions,
Have been told of for miles around.
In reality he’s just humming,
Relaxing himself with a merry tune,
While tapping his arm chair,
With his ice cream spoon.
Today he outwitted a tiger,
And stopped him from terrorizing a spider,
The truth’s still being sorted out,
Of just how that came about.
Orlando the Owl swears,
That last evening on his porch,
He saw him do a dance,
While swinging ’round a torch,
So it must have been a spell,
Could he have made a tiger fell?
Truth be told,
If he could have done such a thing,
He’d rather use such excessive powers,
To fill his pockets full of gold.
Sunday is his fun day out,
One week he’ll go here,
And meet an old school peer,
For a game of solitaire,
Another week he may go there,
In search of a new cologne,
To spray upon his hair.
Sandra the Sparrow speculates,
That he does evil on these dates,
Would he wander out so far,
Without taking his flashy car?
But he is not at all about Hell,
She does not know what it is she tells.
Here’s the truth:
He’s out there having fun,
Dodging busy noses,
As they’re trying to find out,
Everything under the blazing sun,
That he’s ever done.
Do you maybe have an Earl,
Somewhere near to where you are?
Are you maybe being less than fair,
While you sit there judging,
From your high and mighty chair?