It’s April and what better way to celebrate than with frogs? It’s my springtime fixation. I began doodling little frogs a few weeks ago when our first blossoms emerged in Stanley Park. These tiny creatures are great fun to draw. They’re more diverse than the U.S. Supreme Court. For your enjoyment, I’ve incorporated the sketches into a YouTube tutorial I did (Art with Flo), and put together this illustration.

Last night, I remembered a verse I wrote many years ago—in the spring, no doubt. So, I dug it out, hoping to send a chuckle your way.

Purple Frog

I had a slippery purple frog

I took him to the pub

He drank of whiskey and of grog

And mingled in the hub


He was fairly good at snooker

And excellent at darts

He was really quite a looker

And he broke a thousand hearts


A truly snappy dresser

He always wore a vest

I preferred him to the normal cur

And I think he liked me best


He loved the arts and theatre

But dancing he abhorred

He snubbed the unctuous waiter

But hugged the common hoard


Out each night at half past ten

We revelled through the night

He sprang around each charming inn

Impressing all in sight


He’s only failing really was

His slippery purple skin

But I think I liked him most because

He had no next of kin

He and I were comrades

On this cold and squalid earth

And somehow things were not so bad

At the bar stools that we berthed


So I think you can imagine

How it must’ve been for me

That evening at the tavern

When he slipped into the sea


A normal night as any

As we gathered in our cups

He took up one too many

And began to table hop


The tables they did joggle

And the spirits tipped and spilled

The patrons were a goggle

As he hopped and turned and whirled


He bounced around the barroom floor 

His direction in a twist

And through the bathroom door

He went… He was really pissed


A pathetic tawdry ending

In the washroom cubbyhole

Just as someone flushed the tank

… Descending down the bowl

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