The Spy

Little-scary-wicked spy,
Hiding from the naked eye,
Peeps into the looking glass,
Lurks upon the highway pass.

He hitchhikes on a stupid car,
Mumbles low and smokes his cigar,
And then he blows a fiery ring,
Loses grip and starts to sing!

And that is when the creeps begin,
The riders sweat a feeble grin,
Then he draws his sinister gun,
And the satan watches the fun.

Bang!!! Bang!!! Bang!!! Bang!!!
Four heads down but one more sprang,
A toddling flower with dusky hair,
Two eyes froze but none to spare.

He pats his holster and blows a ring,
The flowers' fears have come to spring.