Count E'Clair

There was a toad who went by the name of Count E'Clair

He had a sword in sheath that was sharp to bear

No more pointed than his tongue when it came to be drawn
Pleas of compassion for this toad were never clipped too long

Such a quick-tempered wit and fixation for despair

No one, you see, ever crossed paths with Count E'Clair.

In the forest of Green Suite came word through the smokestack trees

whispering on dead branches spitting out wilt disease

That a frog or a tad had the gumption to proclaim
That the count was a fraud and a rouge and a drain

The Count, resting on his self-imposed detraction
Stated to all he wanted the culprit of this much mis-stated reaction

"Who is it that wouldst say such a braggart thing?"
"I am 'The Count', 'The Executioner of Killers', I am 'The King'!"

"Whoever mocks me shall in the stocks be--no, no, that is too kind,"
"Instead a knife prick in the face, in the heart, and the center of the center of the eyes."

"You there, Froggy, do share, who do you believe this goon to be?"

"Me sir? The cur I know not sir, maybe your countess, yes, ask her, sir."

"Ah, my countess you say? Yes, bring her to me, or I'll have you Fricasseed!"

Eventually, the Countess came forth, her name was The IV
Not in lineage, but in the precedent of wife, of course

Number one was a mistake, she kept the Count awake
her incessant snoring cost her the use of her nose

Number two was a shrew, red-headed, olive-skinned, it's true
Oh, this poor one, was in dire need of a clue
A messy bed she kept, along with the red nest on her head
The fine for her deplorable lack of a comb? Death--Death--Death!

Now number three, if it were up to me, well, let's just say she was murder.
Not the kind that you kill, but you sign away your will
Even if the sum was a button less than a nickel.

Her name was Loretta and she put up a fair case
the legs, the gills, the glowing, wart-filled face
She was caught, or rather heard, and how she did crow
under the weight of one cock-strong toad

Her fate was quite horrible, into a pot she did boil
And served to some visiting French diplomats.

Now here we are, The fourth Mrs. E'Clair
She was a little more homely and little less rare

But she did for the Count, what the others could not tackle
She spent her hours in the bedroom, to the bedpost she was shackled

No more complications, or so thought the King
Until, a girl with no movement or motive to cling

Is left to eat only things filled with syrup and creme.

Yes, she was of great girth, so to bring her before the king, meant, broadsiding the earth
But, here we are, "What say you, my love? Who is the spawn that spat on my royal glove?"

"I know not Countie, my pot-bellied sweet, now let me return to my chain, I'm famished, let's
eat!"

"You bucket of flabby flesh, what a disturbing mess, but you just don't seem to understand..."
"My honor has been put in a stranglehold and someone must pay, I demand!"

"Froggy, take away the Mrs., roll her back in the wheelbarrow, I need rest."

And so, through the rabbit holes and fox burrows

The trail of slicing and swarming verbiage crept

The King's sleep was not pleasant, for only in nightmares he wept
In a flash of slimy sweat, the King shot out of bed, out of his long johns, soaking and wet

"I can't let this pass, one can never be so crass, I will seek vengeance, this is my sole task!"

At once and then some, Froggy wrapped on the door

"What is it you need? Try knocking some more!"

"But sir, it is Froggy I have news to tell, the guilty party is flying right off of its rails."

"What's this you say? Spit it out you frog, Cut out your bumbling or I'll sail your skull in the
bog"

"Sir, My count, I have to say, the troublemaker is not a frog, a minnow or an egg."
"I just heard, from a polar bear-like bird, that the Stink Beetle of San Alter dropped these biting words."

"Oh, the Beetle? and how would a bird know? Was it flying through a cloud full of dung-covered snow?"

"Why, no, you see, as it's come to me, the hawk was around dining on Pill Worms in the trees."

"Go on!"

"Well, the trick of the trap that the bird said was laid, was that he was going to eat the Beetle, until it did spray..."

"Spray what?"

"Stink, of course. And while the Beetle was slow to make any getaway, he told the bird he was unstoppable by any bird, frog or prey."

"I see, I see, yes, this all comes together like a fine Cabernet with my evening fly supper. The Beetle is devious, dubious, and soon enough an endangered and expired sapsucker."

"But Count, here's the problem, yes, the problem at hand."
"The Beetle laughed at your highness, then disappeared in the sand."

"In the sand? Where to? Where would he go, he just disbanded?"

"No, not exactly, it's believed he's traveling to the center of the planet."

"What? How can this be? Why would one travel to the bottoms of the seas?"

"I think he is going to be with his brethren, inside of the earth, where all the insects inhabit."

"It is supposedly worse than Hell in that abysmal cavern, with the wizard of wasps in control of all lowly maggots."

"So, I say Count, what is it that we shall do?"

"To the Center of the Earth! Froggy, send for the crew."