A FROG, HE WOULD

A magician mad and short of lucre
Cursed his bank manager and computer,
Who promptly croaked - into a frog
Upon a bank he only too well knows
Whereon wild datatime he grows.

There he sits full of air
Without the graces
His head filled with overdraft
And his belly with inflation,
Afrightin' newts and agitatin'
Algaie to jelly in detestation,
On full collateral he'll always insist
While wondering why he hasn't been missed?!

But malcontents without content
Do have their station:
His role or hole in life he's really found
To be a big frog
In a little pond.