The Otter with Emerald Eyes
This poem was written as a gift for Rudderg33k about his otter fursona, Thomas James O'Connor.
The Otter with Emerald Eyes
By
Foxpiper
Wandering lowly amidst the shamrock shore, Was a grand creature steeped in Irish lore; For nary a soul would believe such lies, Of a charming otter with emerald eyes.
Though none could deny the braw beast there, With his rugged good looks and fiery red hair; Quite a quare wan was he along the turning tide, Til he left for the fine coastal town to abide.
Down cobblestone roads he traipsed with a smile, Which in many a wild heart he could beguile; The old villagers looked with sneers and sighs, At the rambling otter with emerald eyes.
Yet to the young folk the sound fella was keen, Gaining fondness from each lad and sweet colleen; His hypnotic allure led them all astray, To the local pub where he would spend the day.
Into the tavern, he was greeted with stares, Til they saw he had come to forget his cares; With a pint in his paw amongst hearty cries, Quaffed the thirsty otter with emerald eyes.
Oh, how he wished he could tarry longer, But he felt the black stuff getting stronger; With a flagon gone and a wee time to think, He up and left before he hore for the drink.
His absence was suddenly all that mattered, Was he in a hurry or completely bladdered? Thus, turning to address their pile of whys, Spoke the cheerful otter with emerald eyes.
"I thank ye fer lettin' me stay quite awhile, Though I just be danderin' 'round Erin's isle; But don't let yer hopes all become a goner, Fer me name is Thomas James O'Connor."
With a wag of his tail, to the hills he was bound, Over babbling brooks and ancient ground; Oh, to live and die beneath Irish skies, Went the handsome otter with emerald eyes.