There came a time for Tom, my pet sloth,
To enter him in the Senior Sloth Olympics.
For swiftness, he far exceeded all the rest,
A relay leg, he was the bestest of the fast.
 
Twenty four runners the relay consisted of.
Four are left if twenty die of old age.
It starts on Xmas and ends up on Easter,
One mile to go is a long, long way.
 
“Come on Tom. Trip the guy in front of you.
Do what it takes to make me proud.
Maybe next week, you’ll be
Running side by side.
I bet twenty eight cents for you to get him.
If you lose, I won’t feed you anymore.”
So says I, Master Fred his feeder.
 
As Easter was approaching,
Tom was a foot behind.
As he reached out to trip him,
The runner died of old age, anyway.
Which goes to show you;
You can win a race
And you don’t even have to cheat.
 
Sloths aren’t as stupid as we think.
They can win races the legal way.

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