I glued myself to a crocodile,
It wasn’t what I wanted to do,
As I fixed a radio transmitter,
The croc shook, my tube shook,
I was stuck with glue.

John held the head with a rope,
tied it to the pier rail,
Elmo held the rope of the tail,
tightly lest his grip fails.

I shrieked to Maya for immediate aid,
she kept her head, dropped her phone,
ran to the van, found my bag in my bed,
got my nail polish remover, it’s acetone.

It came to me by flight,
but with God’s grace,
I caught it just right,
and with my teeth took a bite,

whipped off the bottle cap,
poured it all on my hand,
wrested my hand off right
then and jumped to land.

The poor croc cursed me,
splashed me, doused me,
but my job was done,
and now we could follow … my hand!