I don't know why your sour with me.

I've been storing up

Fat for you for centuries

It seems, waiting for you

To turn your head

And come and bed me down

In the hay.

And all this blubber

Will carry us both over

Many winters, and our young

Will be fat and spry and healthy for it.

And we would thrive very well

You and me,

If you could only see

Who I could be to you,

The very survival of your species.

-jenn