Mighty Dread Skeeter – by Dale Cobb (on staff at DC Mosquito Squad)
A parody based on “Casey At The Bat” by Ernest Thayer
The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the neighborhood that day;
Mrs Brown was bitten badly while her children were out to play,
Mr. Smith was bitten 20 times, and others were the same,
The mosquitoes attacked this small town with painful deadly aim.
Men abandoned their yard work in deep despair. The rest
Clung to that hope, which springs eternal, in the human breast;
They thought, if only Dread Skeeter would come and knock ‘em flat
They’d put up even money, now, He’d make them go kersplat
The Bug Authority had tried, as did the Orkin Man,
And the former was ineffective and the latter shrieked and ran
So upon those stricken towns people grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance that Skeeter would arrive at.
Their mosquito invested town, but to the wonderment of all,
A motorcycle’s unmuffled roar tore through the urban sprawl;
And when the dust had lifted, and they saw what had occurred,
There was the Mighty Dread Skeeter having rounding Oak and 3rd.
Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Dread Skeeter, Mighty Skeeter, smiled and doffed his hat.
There was ease in Skeeter’s manner as he dismounted in this place
There was pride in Skeeter’s bearing and a smile on Skeeter’s face.
He donned his gloves and face-shield, He loaded his tank with care
For when he addressed the mosquitoes, there’d be not one left there.
Five thousand eyes were on him as he pulled the pack’s ripcord,
Five thousand mouths dropped open when its mighty engine roared.
Then while the writhing mosquitoes gathered in their dark formation,
Defiance gleamed in Skeeter’s eye, He targeted their location.
And now the piercing proboscis’ came hurtling through the air,
And Dread Skeeter stood a-watching it in professional grandeur there.
Then from his waist, he quickly drew his double nozzled hose
He fired once, the mosquitoes fell squirming in death throes
From the east, black with mosquitoes, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore.
“Get him! Get Skeeter!” the mosquitoes seemed to storm;
And it’s likely they’d a-killed him had Dread Skeeter been the norm.
But with a smile of charity great Skeeter’s visage shone;
He stilled the worried townsfolk; turned to taunt the mosquitoes on;
He drew his patent leather whip, soaked in Pyrethroid dew;
Lightning crackled as Skeeter flayed. One thousand fell, No…Two!
The maddened mosquito hordes, dive bombed Skeeter in reply
The people thought, this is the end, Dread Skeeter would surely die.
They saw his face grow focused; they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that Skeeter would not fail, he was mosquito bane.
He clenched his teeth and drew one breath then set his STIHL to eight,
He opened up on the teaming horde and sent them to their fate.
The people could not see Dread Skeeter in the cloud of pestilence
But the very air was shattered by the force of the events…
Though he bested those before him and the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children play;
There is no joy in Skeeter’s heart – for Mighty Skeeter let one get away.