You find the Great Owl’s home tree.
You nervously declare,
“I need written letter
To buy a house ’round there.”

The Great Owl leaves his tree knot.
Ink quill in his beak…
He drops the quill and swoops down!
The rest of this is bleak.

I leave you a small comfort.
The Great Owl got an itch.
His next meal was none other
Than that mean rabbit bitch.

THE END