Grumblings are always grumbling,
about this and that.
Go ask a Grumbling to take out the garbage,
he'll retort,
"What, and waste my time?
I ain't doin' no rubbish like trash!"
Or tell him to trim the hedge,
and he'll growl very low,
"Leave me alone, Jack, I'm bushed
and am staying planted right here
so long as I can't figure out
what whack smack you are barking about."
Try to get a Grumbling to feed the fish,
he'll reply composed and reposed,
"I just can't do it, Trish,
for I fear the only fish I'm hooked on
come off punch-lines and onto my dinner dish."
Though, the true problem comes
when the Grumblings are more than one.
Whereas 'a' Grumbling can be humbled into mumbles
with 'a' strategically placed TV
(which he'll watch indefinitely),
if a number of Grumblings start
stumbling though doors, jumbling out windows
and falling in a bumble of tumbles
down the crumbling chimneys narrow,
that grumbling will roar into a rumbling crescendo
that even the mayor can't fix,
because by then he'll be grumbling, too,
with little, if any, clue of how to save
a neighborhood that has gone to
the Grumbling zoo.