Curiosity

Over by the rivulet,
Settled by the Sierra,
Lying near the Eastern Divide,
Cries a contemptuous courier.

He sings a story,
Of a little lad,
Whom he knows quite well:

The lad of eleven,
Skipped school,
Set to work by the age of two,
Learned to tough it,
Out where the savaged screeched.
Where the wilderness,
Became his humble home.

He was strong and swaggering,
Believing in his significant strength,
Until the day he came across
A field of several hundred squirrels,
Who chittered constantly.

The curious chap,
Wanting to learn the words,
Spoken with a slur,
By the squirrels ever so sly.
He tip-toed tenuously,
Around the area,
Of where the creatures confide,
Trying to listen in,
In eavesdrop ever so earnestly.

However,
Without much luck,
The fidgety fellow,
Stumbled into a shallow stream,
Kicking and screaming,
Unable to swim skillfully,
In a rivulet two feet deep.

The squirrels standing nearby,
Laughed loudly,
At the bet the bid,
About the boy in the water.