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Arachnid Blues (poem)
By W. D. Ehrhart
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I.
Fee, fie, fo, fum,
I got bit by a scorpion
not once, but twice.
It wasn't nice,
but I didn't die,
though I did cry
"Corpsman!"
loudly enough to convey
to every Viet Cong and NVA
from the DMZ to Hanoi
that I was a boy
in pain.
II.
Years later,
a scorpion walks into a bar
and orders a beer.
The bartender,
who happened to be an ex-Marine
who had once been bitten
by a scorpion
—twice—
grabbed an entrenching tool
from under the bar
and smashed the little bastard.
—W. D. Ehrhart
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