by Brenda Sutton
|He’s not an ordinary friend.
There’s nothing up his sleeves.
His thoughts get tangled in his antlers
While he’s reading us bad poetry.
He’s from an ordinary town
In northern Minnesota.
At Wottsamatta University
He’s our B.M.O.C. (Big Moose on Campus)
||Then there’s this ordinary guy,
Kind of short and stocky;
He really fears his "Fearless Leader",
Tries to blow things up and can’t say "the".
He likes his women rather tall,
And I think I see him everywhere.
Bullwinkle seems to trust him,
But I watch him, just the same.
||I’m just an ordinary squirrel,
The kind in flying goggles,
And, golly, yes I know my eyes are crossed,
My voice is high, and I get lost.
I’m in an ordinary world
Of spies and bombs and heroes,
And every week my buddy saves the world,
But we know I’m the boss.