The Gecko

The Gecko lying on his stone Is always very much alone, Nor is the reason hard to trace By those who've seen its form and face It's hard to realise a mite Can be so venomous a sight, Or in its little frame compress Such concentrated ugliness. Now wonder other creatures fly Each time a Gecko ambles by. No wonder that its chosen mate Recoils from the connubial state. Yet underneath its skin, we're told, There beats a heart of purest gold. Its children do not know neglect; It treats its mother with respect. It never, ever beats its wife, And lives a most unblemished life. Its aspect is its sole defence Against the world's malevolence. So when you see a Gecko stay Uncharitable thoughts and say:- 'The gruesome are not always gross- even a reptile bears its cross!'