I took ol' snail upon a trip

Upon the live-long sea

Ol' snail she is so silent,

More silent, still, than me.

 

We wander forward on the tides,

And wander back in time,

But all upon a Tuesday- drear

Ol'snail she speaks in rhyme.

 

With metaphors a-plenty,

Right on the cusp of time,

Ol' snail becomes ye old March Hare 

And leaves us all behind.