The Caterpillar
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“The Caterpillar,” Friend, May 1983, 22

The Caterpillar

I watched a fuzzy caterpillar

Crawling across the street;

His little body wiggled

As he moved his many feet.

When he hurried in a flurry,

He moved his feelers ‘round

And looked like an accordion

As he slid along the ground.

“Mr. Caterpillar, what’s your hurry?

Can’t you see the sun’s still high?”

“Yes, it is, but I won’t see it

If a car comes rolling by!”