Trying to get a handful of Oregon gold.
The wind blows knives through wagon canvas
And a broken wheel went and damned us.
For lo, it was the middle o’ the night
And deep underwater, lay the settlers’ blight.
Trapped for centuries ’neath the flat plains brush,
Was a monstrous dinosaur, eating vegetation lush.
It had big sharp teeth and beady eyes,
Stomach full of babies and a swarm of flies;
Its toes were a terror, all bladed and keen,
A bonified scaly killin’ machine.
“Look out, pa!” yelled li’l Paul Onion.
“He’s got gnashing teeth, and a foot full o’ bunions!”
But Pa Onion lashed out a whip made of ham,
And with a mighty roar, he yelled “Sweet Uncle Sam!”
The dinosaur paused and readjusted his feet,
Swung his spiked tail and within half a beat
Pa Onion was down and his son was devoured;
Snow came down like nothing had mattered.
While rampagin’ through the settlers’ remains,
The mighty dinosaur felt a pain in his brain.
See, a drifter that followed the train close behind
Was a dinosaur hunter, quite out of his mind.
Time nearly froze while they measured each other,
So the rest of the Onions ran quickly for cover.
“Our steel-plated wagon will surely provide,”
Ma Onion stated, “A haven to hide!”
If only they hadn’t sealed themselves in so tight...
If only they’d known not to run from the fight...
Because, as they ran, the dinosaur spied
A tasty pioneer treat with his segmented eye.
Went Back in Time
Until he found his new friend.
For a very long time Ma Onion stood still,
The children in tow and her very soul chilled.
With two gaping jaws and a pocket of dread,
Great dinosaur lips honed in on her head.
I’ve got nary a moment! the drifter’s mind spoke,
If I can’t stop that dino, that lady’ll croak!
So thought he did quickly, up a plan that was dandy;
He’d trick it quite slickly, with Mexican candy!
“Who wants some Pashunions?” he yelled through the night.
The dino eclipsed the Onions, repose in mid-bite.
“Here’s a pocket of jum jums an’ a bottle o’ floo!”
The drifter broadly gestured, swinging vials of goo.
Scratched his scaled chin, that dinosaur did.
A major decision- processed food, or the kid?
In the end, ’twas an offer he couldn’t refuse.
Because if he did, he’d end up on the news.
And if there’s one thing dinosaurs hate more than comets,
It’s nosy reporters getting bees in their bonnets.
With a fistful of candy and a roaring disdain,
Off sulked the dino, through torrents of rain.
Ubiquitously, word spread ’cross the prairie
Of the Onion’s exploits over some “reptile fairy.”
They were welcomed in Portland with wide open arms,
Then spent 80 years working fetid dirt farms.
“But what of the drifter?” you needlessly ask.
In Oregon City he proved up to the task
Of governorship over three different states:
Confusion, The Union, and liquid phosphates.
Impacted My Mansion
For Yesterday’s Honda
I’m just gonna hail a cab.