There was a young launder from Kent,

Whose mind was quite legally bent,

And one sunny day—

The last one of May—

Juan needed to pay his high rent.

This, though, you see, was a quandary,

For Juan’s employer (named Audrey)

Had just had him sacked—

With no ounce of tact—

For leaving his gum in the laundry.

Juan needed some money, and quick;

So he went to his good buddy, Dick.

But as he would luck it,

Dick kicked the bucket

(He always had been slightly sick).

While walking and cursing his luck,

Our borderline friend saw a truck.

There were guards all about,

It was armored and stout,

And his mind formed a notion with pluck.

If he got away with the job,

He’d come off with a billion bob.

And before you could say

Cock-a-doodle-dee-day,

Juan was plotting and planning to rob.

So he ran to his neighborhood dump

And over the fence he did jump.

He found a large cart—

He quickly did dart—

Getting underwear, chainsaws, a pump,

A doormat, a teapot, a chair;

He saw uses for things everywhere

But when climbing a mound—

Oh, what treasure he found!—

A hiding place by wind laid bare.

For the dump-man, you see, liked to hoard

Though shiny things just made him bored.

His one-time delight—

And he wasn’t contrite—

Was a bright yellow ducky named Ward.

But Ward simply wasn’t enough;

Some duckies just got it tough.

So instead of hard cash,

He got paid in trash—

Or rather, in duckies cast off.

But he just didn’t premeditate

How his duckies would accumulate,

So he hid them away

Till the coming of day

But the unlucky fellow slept late.

Our psych ward escapee was giddy,

For he too loved ducks (his was Liddie).

So Juan pilfered the stash

And ran off through the trash,

Knocking over an unwitting biddy.

She was mad, as most old people are,

So she went to the dump-man’s old car

Where he slept every night

To keep watch out of sight

And guard over his ducks from afar.

When he found his beloveds were gone,

He called the police chief, Ms. Swan

She inspected the scene—

Which was far from routine—

And said, her face tired and drawn,

“I’ll put out a madman alert.”

And she daintily lifted her skirt

And got into her car—

A sleek red Jaguar—

And with the wheels kicked up the dirt.

And as for our special friend, Juan,

He’d concocted a brilliant con.

If the bank dads and moms

Thought the duckies were bombs,

He’d be rich by the tale’s denouement.

He hid them inside his long trench coat,

And quick as allegro sixteenth notes,

To the bank he did run—

He was having great fun—

Entered, and asked for a quote.

Now, the bank manager, Mr. Strobe

Was an incurable polyphobe,

And his thing about ducks—

Like his thing about trucks—

Was locked in his occipital lobe.