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Frank Maguire, The Northwest Connection

I met an amoeba today,
I stopped and I asked it to play.
It said “Beat it you rube,
“I am ‘midst Rubic’s Cube,
“And I’m only one square away.”
Annoyed by amoeba’s affront,
My retort would be equally blunt.
I said “I refuse, bud,
“To be treated like mud
“By a green, unicellular runt.”
Now, I know that amoeba aren’t shy,
So I gazed into its nuclei.
It said “Mind your tongue, chump,
“Someday you’ll get your lumps,
“For soon, I’ll be able to fly.”
Well, I knew that this blob had me beat;
Against wings, what good would be feet?
So heed my bewares,
Alone, or in pairs,
Do not an amoeba mistreat.

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