On the Whole I’d Rather Be a Bullfrog

I’d rather be a bullfrog
and lie about the pond
and dine on flies and skeeters
and things of which I’m fond.

I’d like to be a croaker
and stay up late at night
to blend my voice in joyful song
to all the pond’s delight.

I’d love to have long, limber legs
to jump from spot to spot
and when I want to, play with toads,
and leap away when not.

Oh, if I were a great big frog
all handsomed out in green,
I’d hide along the water’s edge
and never would be seen.

I want to have a long pink tongue
and shoot it out so fast
that if a bug flew near me,
its flight would be its last.

They say frogs taste like chicken,
and while no one eats their eggs
I’d have to be real careful
or I’d end up French fried legs.