There’s a Polar BearIn our Frigidaire–He likes it ’cause it’s cold in there.With his seat in the meatAnd his face in the fishAnd his big hairy pawsIn the buttery dish,He’s nibbling the noodles,And munching the rice,He’s slurping the soda,He’s licking the ice.And he lets out a roarIf you open the door.And it gives me a scareTo know he’s in there–That Polary BearIn our Fridgitydaire.
Shel Silverstein, A Light in the Attic