not a political poem

THIS IS NOT A POLITICAL POEM

 

This is the Year of the Rat.

For every Chinese place mat.

Fried, they taste much like a brat.

If it can fly, it's a bat.

Dress with some yogurt, low-fat.

Or melted butter, one pat.

Eat one each day, except Sat.

Do not add air unless flat.

Hang all the tails from your hat.

Leftovers feed to your cat.

Writ by one true Democrat.

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