We were on holiday in the mountains. I saw a red squirrel in a tall Douglas Fir tree cutting cones. He was growling all the while. He was so stern and so mean acting. I wrote this silly poem.

That mean squirrel growled at me
Now he climbs that big fir tree
From high above he growls down
He sends a fir cone to the ground

I snatch it up so very quick
I toss it over into the creek
Now he is searching all alone
He can't find his old fir cone

Up that tall tree he climbs
Down comes a cone right on time
Again I snatch it up so quick
Again I throw it into the creek

Again he comes to search around
One more time no cone is found
A third time he climbs the tree
A third time growls down at me

Again down comes a fir cone
Again he comes to the ground
Once more I snatched it up so quick
Once more I threw it into the creek

And as I turn to walk away
I look back at him and say
Have a nice day