It was most often always Foggy in Foggy Valley
Morning would begin with an icy mist
first appearing on the Grey muddy banks
Above and beyond the site of the old oaken bridge
Where the biggest and best jumping toads hid
For the villagers the bridge had no name
Locals referring to the bridge as the bridge that went nowhere
Children were told to stay away from the bridge
This was hard to do when frogs were croaking
A lion or two were prowling about snarling
And they could hear running footsteps from the other side
Once appeared the head of a python snake
Soon seen disappearing into the slime
On a day there was a heavy morning fog
Children were to stay away from Foggy Valley
For on distant shores were seen Monsters
Carrying heavy weapons and whose diet was children
Most children would not venture beyond the high cliffs
But there is always one in this case three
Little Brent with the curly matted red Irish hair
His younger brother Ryan who was afraid of nothing
And Sidney with the impish blue sad eyes
For Sidney had just lost her dog Holmes
One day the children came up missing
As well as Brent's bamboo fishing pole
A bucket of slimy brown worms and
a recently captured bullfrog named "Warts"
In the middle of prayers the Preacher stopped preaching
For in the distance could be heard chanting and singing
Sidney's dog Holmes running up the front stairs.
Everyone knows a dogs tail wagging is a good sign
Sure enough across the bridge from the other side
Came Brent, his brother Ryan and Sidney
With the happy smiling blue eyes
But they were not alone
For with them were other kids singing just like them
Not evil looking kids but kids just like them
No one of the villagers knew when the hatred began
For it began long ago when other children were missing
The moral of this story is--all stories must have morals
If you do not mind your parents and cross the bridge---
no no no- just kidding! The world would be a better
place if we put the weapons and pitchforks down
Instead of guessing try to understand the other point of view
Understanding is the key. Crossing over the bridge and not
be blinded by the unknown.
I first wrote this poem in the bad boy closet in Ms. Nance's
class in the second grade. Put it on Ms Nance's desk.
I was "Punky" but signed it with my given name Dandy
Punky was given a failure the other Danny in class an "A"
I don't hold a grudge. I put worms, snakes and cockroaches
in Ms. Nance's next week good conduct chest for the girls to open
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