A poem for my grandson Danny.

Willoughby, Wallaby, Sneaker, and Snore, cast off in two boats t’ward an elegant Shore.

Leaving behind their frail  hopes and weak dreams; risking it all to pursue The Great Scheme.

Willoughby Wallaby soon took the lead, flexing their muscles like white stallion steeds.

Sneaker and Snore barely took up their oar, considering labor a venomous bore.

Said Sneaker, “This work is is to hard for us two.  Let us hitch to your stern.  What say Double U?”

But word was sent back with a scowl and a snort, “Row as you can!  We’ve no time for your sort.”

Soon came a Breeze, gainst their bows, to drive back.  But Willoughby, Wallaby gave work no slack.

Sneaker and Snore soon rested their oar.  And let the breeze blow them straight back to their shore.

Back to their poverty.  Back to the stench.  Elegance not being worth muscles wrenched.

While Willoughby, Wallaby soon came in sight, of an elegant castle perched high on cliffs white.

A rope was found dangling on which they could climb.  Their great oar born muscles began t’ward sublime.

Reaching the summit, they were welcomed with good, and welcomed into their fine brotherhood.

The moral is sure to escape none who read:  You get what you pay for; you reap from your seed.

By His Grace