By Pete Tucker

There’s one, setting in the corner,
Complacent and smug.
We’ve grown to despise them.
The damnable Stink Bug!

There’s yet another
Crawling on the rug.
The bane of our existence,
That dreaded Stink Bug!

Over there on the sofa,
As though it took some drug!
Who invited these wretched things?
I guess another Stink Bug.

Settin’ on the veranda,
It can fly. It can lug.
Versatile little scoundrel
But it’s still a Stink Bug!

And there, on the window
Seeming like a slug.
Whoever would’ve thunk?
Of course, another Stink Bug!

Sure, you could crush it,
But that you may wish to rethink!
Because it’s only then
That you’ve really made it stink!