On land, Momma Goose wasn’t all that graceful,

She had a distinct waddle mixed in her walk.

And though English was not her native tongue,

Somehow a full food pan made Momma talk.

Down-home friendly until Canadians got in town,

She’d float off, then return; when they weren’t around.

Knew my blue beast when it came down the road,

Stopped, fed her goodies, peaceful don’t you know.

Momma Goose had no one except a lonely Mallard duck,

An eagle ate him up some back; so much for family luck.

Cruised around lonesome till six Muscovy came one day;

Adopted every single one, then round the pond they’d play.

New family swimming, squawking to the shore,

Goose-stepping up the bank, always wanting more.

Pond froze up; tracks, and a few mute white feathers told the tale,

Now she drifts into memory, her honking fills the sail.