Now now,
I'm going to start with a rant again.
But better not, so I'll write a story.
Bolf was a placid wolf,
now call it chronicles if you wish but this is Bolf's second appearance,
today Bolf was sitting by a creek,
he comes here every morning see,
its his favourite place in all his world,
he'll sit until it hits mid-afternoon,
then he gets up and goes to work,
occasionally reluctant, but willing because works keeps him from hunting,
as you see, he is a placid wolf.
Bolf does the same thing everytime,
he wishes he wasn't quite as placid,
but dreamy thoughts soon hit him,
and he'll let himself linger away,
once he saw a rabbit, from Nantucket he thought,
Nantucket rabbits made the best breakfast,
they were full of energy for the day,
but not that Bolf needed much.
So Bolf decided to hunt,
a break from routine, but a very welcome one Bolf thought as he shined his shinnings,
Routine was an important part of Bolf's life,
routine saw him the same animals and people everyday,
routine was part of his life,
but his favourite place was the creek,
and he saw no routine in the water that flowed by,
oh no he didn't