it’s paradise road for meat-eaters

ranches everywhere

beef, bison, even llamas

and tasty free-range bear

trophy buck, big ol’ moose

you gotta watch it, see?

’cause critters always gettin’ loose

and crossin’ Highway 3—

this stretch is bad junk

you could hit somethin’ and kill

a porcupine or stinky skunk

to pick out of your grill

but she likes that

she hopes you do

and she won’t have to pay

her oily feathers shine

in the asphalt heat of midday

the lunch is ready, time to dine

then traffic comes her way

so she flaps to the fence post

licks her beak ’til she can carry on

gopher, deer make rotting roast

and she loves the carrion

down the road from Paradise Hill

out on Highway 3

an American crow eats fresh road kill

quite ironically

in front of the Paradise Hill Meat House

and the Paradise Hill Meat House is closed

for the holiday

there is no meat for sale today

but the crow has got some

if you want some

just stop— you won’t have to pay