Well, it is a story about a story
A story that is a work of fiction;
For it never happened, nor it will ever
Set any act of providence in motion
Although the start is cheesy
And the end looks even worse;
It may still be a lonesome read
That has matching verse.
It being a story of a frog;
A frog that is no prince,
Neither it has a princess
Quite a boring story I evince.
So the frog here is plump and stout,
Green greener than grass.
It was very witty and charming;
In other words it did cut a class.
This frog one day went to a pond
To do its morning chores;
But never did it return back
To its humble abode's doors.
I waited and waited at the doorsteps
For at least two scores nights,
But never did I saw its olive eyes;
Or its ever so charming sights.
Alas! What could've been a substantial story of a frog,
Just remains a story that would've been a story of a frog.