King of the Mantis gypsies, by way of Bordeaux,

Living by the red grape, wine lover, don’t you know?

Feisty in the best of times, quick to give a pinch,

Fill him with grape’s nectar, that boy won’t back an inch.

He dances through the vines, what a happy blighter,

Don’t push him though, Louie Mantis is a fighter.

T. Rex to insect’s world, king of the Bordeaux clan,

Scissor hands not for looks, he’ll bite you if he can.

Pit bull bad, has no fear, and wine gets Louie cruising,

Leave little bulldog be, or fingers get a bruising.

We seemed kindred spirits; I thought of a visit,

Most think such impossible, but really, is it?

Fancy took flight, trip to Bordeaux seemed in order,

Closed my eyes, no jet lag, next stop, French border.

I made me somewhat smaller, to fit Louie’s size.

Though knowing his temper, wasn’t sure it was wise.

But we had us a time, and a day in the sun,

Of all the mantis I know, that Louie is one.

We whistled at the girls from a street-front café,

Then I flew me back home, but I’ll go back some day.