a fun children's poem
| The Great Sherlock Holmes|
Fred was tired of being a baboon.
All that climbing and grunting just wasn't his tune.
He secretly wanted to be the great Holmes
and solve great mysteries right here in his home.
Not telling his mother, the queen of the pack,
he'd sent for a pipe and a floppy plaid hat.
Snail mail had brought him the Holmes how-to book
It held information on catching a crook.
Lucy the aardvark came running one day.
"My baby, my baby, he's been stolen away."
I know it's the ants, they are so darn mean.
I know it's because I licked their house clean."
"Help me, help me. I must have him back.
My baby, my loved one, my poor little Jack"
Fred reached in his pocket and pulled out the book.
He flipped through the pages and took a long look.
"It says here," he quoted, "to look for the clues.
A hair or a footprint or tiny red shoes."
He went to the place where the baby was taken.
He looked at the ground, sure he wasn't mistaken.
A bazillion and one footprints showed him the way.
He grabbed Lucy's paw and pulled her away.
She thought he was gallant and so wonderfully strong.
She knew he was smart and, hopefully, not wrong
Fred spotted the ants, a thin line out front,
pushing Jack the aardvark, the baby gray runt.
He quickly caught up and snorted, "Let go!"
and scattered the ants with a mighty big blow.
They had a party that day in a circle of trees.
His mother kept grooming Fred, she was so pleased.
The rest of the animals cheered with loud grunts.
No crook would come near with Fred on the hunt.