sat in the mud,
she tripped on a wire
landing with a thud.
Ruthie T. Quagmire,
at the top of a hill,
rolled down in a tire
and had a big spill.
Ruthie T. Quagmire,
in the kitchen to bake,
started a fire
lighting candles on her cake.
Ruthie T. Quagmire,
took to her bed,
the diagnosis was dire
after she crashed on her sled.
Ruthie T. Quagmire,
in the park with her kite,
the wind took it higher
hitting a tree mid flight.
Ruthie T. Quagmire,
despite the stories I've told,
is never a quitter
with a heart of true gold.
(I've always like the name Ruthie T. Quagmire, and thought it would make a good name for a character, in a poem.)
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