I once was a clerk,
Took holiday,
One month near trees.
I know what I viewed,
Prints, where I stood,
North region woods.

I tracked prints a ways,
Then I froze as I saw many hairs.
Oh, it shook the ground,
When it noticed me watching its glare.

It stood there and shrugged,
Height was nine-nine,
Stinking like swine.
It walked from my view.
And as it fled,
I felt pure dread.

The way that it lurched was a warning,
It darted and rasped.
It bolted till hidden.
I ran off to flee from its path.

And when I got home,
I didn't know,
What lurched and groaned.
So I did inquire,
Was it Bigfoot,
North region woods?