Poem
The hunter of the tuby:
I may be small and just a weed
But I can be strong even if I am a seed
A hunter am I, and I patiently wait
For unsuspecting prey rolls into view
A hunter am I, and hunting I do
When he rolls over my place I latch on tight
A whoosh of air and I know I hit right
Another tube bites the dust it's master is angry and I dust myself off
Now here I wait for another prey knowing that small I may be
My prey doesn't stray for I am a hunter and hunting is what I do.
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