Ever been to Selma's swamp,
Where the ground is roily and raring?
It squeals and sucks with hungry muck
and swallows those unwary.
The trodden path is treacherous,
and oftentimes misleads
both dim and dauting minds to fall
adrift in seas of wicked weeds.
I have been to Selma's swamp,
for Selma is my precious Gran.
Ancient bones complain and groan,
constricting her to boggy lands.
I am but an errand boy,
wandering wetlands for our eats
wise to tricks and buried pits
and slimy serpents that n** my feet.
The sun will set on Selma's swamp,
where rising shadows scream and laugh
We will feast on froggy beasts
and give our filthy feet a bath.
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