Three fingers lived in a skinny house
Neither were they fins nor claws
Clutching their nerves worriedly
They awaited a gripping tale
The beard sat in the scratched couch
And spoke of a spine with a slouch
That had never had the courage for defiance
As the oppression grew as a nail
The little finger fiercely nodded
For it couldn't, well, shake its head
And said, "I would never do that!
I'll never leave a trodden tail!"
The beard laughed in white and grey
And said, "Little one, have no dismay.
For the spine that fails to ever upright
Can do narry but slowly fail."
The ring finger nodded righteously
And looked at the middle, aggressively
Who sighed, before he stood up
And asked, "What will my discipline entail?"
"You will go back and apologise,
To the thumb, whom you have bullied thrice,
And only when he thumbs you up
That you shall even get a bail."