Living in the Pacific Northwest slugs are something I’ve had to get used to as they are everywhere!!! – especially after it rains!!!… Lets just say they are not my favorite but as a mom of four – three of them boys, sometimes you have no choice but get used to these things that fascinate your kids – and are just a part of life. I’ve even been grateful at times when finding them and counting them has kept my kids entertained while we waited for one thing or another to finish. And what else to do? Write a silly poem about them of course. 🙂 Thankfully this is not based on actual events. The original poem was published on my previous blog in September 2012. It has been changed slightly here.
I found in my yard a slimy brown slug.
It was there by the dirt where I dug and I dug.
I scooped him right up with my dad’s favorite mug
and took it right in, that mug with a slug.
But then he escaped from the mug to the rug.
And who should walk in? – My brother named Doug.
And my mischievous brother tried hugging that slug.
My mother – quite frightened – yelled “Ugh, it’s a slug!”
“Are you sure it’s no bug?” said my brother named Doug.
“At least that slug is now off my new rug…”
said our mother quite sadly with a bit of a shrug.
From a hug to a jug went that slimy brown slug.
Then in went a plug to that crystal clear jug.
Said Doug to the slug, holding it snug,
“You’re sure not a pug or a stinky stinkbug,
but I think I will keep you and call your name Ugh.”
From a mug to a rug to a hug to jug
– So went the life of a slimy brown slug.