A goose goes slowly on the path
“Nothing like an evil stash”
It thinks, so it waddles to the puddle
On the ground, hoping to find a bubble
Of dry food or gold, but alas there was none.
The goose waddled onwards, not the one to stop until it was done,
Waddling waddling waddling until it came upon a town
That it was so deep in the woods that up was down.
The unbothered goose walked to the shop
And strode to the counter, “can i have a glass of pop?”
It asked. The shopkeep, who was very tired
Asked the goose if it would like to be hired.
The goose check its calendar, empty, and said yes to a job
Thus is the story of the goose who had its own business, which is a little odd.