The guy who found me can be quite the dork,
A simple walk down a trail, yet he takes the wrong fork.
He realizes it later, much to his chagrin,
Tries to scoot up the hill, trips, and leaves some skin.
Back to his truck we took the right fork,
We got in and he started to snort.
The paper you travel with is not in the bag,
His shoulders they drooped and started to sag.
Back down the trail for the paper he searched,
Quickly he found it, laying by a birch.
He got back in his truck and gave me an evil leer,
Remember, my head is empty, it caused me much fear.
Relax little buddy, he said with a grin,
Soon I'll release you, on your way you'll be again.
But I've got to keep you away from my wife,
She'll want to keep you, thinking you're quite nice.
But I'll let you go for as it is said,
You must go here and there,
You must go everywhere.
With that I relaxed and started to grin,
For soon, I'll be back on my way again.
Now the person who found me, he thinks he's a poet,
But wouldn't you know it,
That his feet show it,
They're "Longefellows".