Artist Pete was at his easel
When round the bend sped trucker Cecil.
His cargo was ten thousand weasels,
All mean and achy with the measles.
Sleepy Cecil went to yawn
And when he woke his life was gone.
Smashing, crashing went the diesel
Mashing all ten thousand weasels.
And poor Pete? He fainted,
His canvas repainted—
Red spotted with diseas-ed weasels
And a dash of deceas-ed Cecil.
The lesson of this trucker's woe?
Lord, teach us mortals to go slow
Lest we be fleeting pigments
For some roadside Van Gogh.
