On the road’s his yen,
hoping to find on the road more than a hen.
Best case would be the carcass of Gentle Ben.
Lying in wait, he’s craving his roadside yen.

On the road’s his yen;
he’s sure hoping that he’ll score again.
Eventually a creature meets its end—
most likely where the road’s curvy and bends.

He’s near such a bend,
expectantly hopes for slipup on the highway
by a driver bent
on going too fast, causing an pickup-slay—
that he prays.

On knees he don’t bend
as he beseeches a hapless creature’s end.
A car that hits a b’ar can really, truly rend
ursine issue till all its tissues distend.

He’s near a road bend,
anticipating a mishap on the highway
by a driver bent
on going too fast; care the driver don’t pay—
bear-die day.

Bored, he asks, “Why’s a hen
cross the road?” Rhetorical is this gent.
It appears that an answer to his prayers is sent:
bear’s dead while the truck merely suffers a dent.
Though Papist, Bob won’t give up bear for Lent.