“That’s right, run, you gutless cowards! Looks like you lily-livered punks got a look at my razor-sharp claws and flesh-ripping teeth and decided you wanted to live another day! Too bad, because I was looking forward to thrashing you all by myself!”
Via Attack of the Cute.
So fierce!
Ha! love the hovertext! ?
Yeah, Dads are good for supervisory critique.
When this kid says, my dad can beat up your dad, no one argues.
Gorgeous little murder baby!
We gonna get chew! Rrraghrr! err rra, umm Dad?
Dad Tiger: ‘Good job son, I haz a proud.’
. . . .at a guess, pretty sure that’s mom. Still scary. Possibly scarier, actually.
The Tyger
By William Blake
Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!
When the stars threw down their spears
And water’d heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
Tyger, tyger, just kitten,
still how they shake and fear bein’ bitten!
Mighty teeth and mighty claws,
fearsome growls and powerful paws.
Tyger, tyger, burning bright,
in the forests of the night,
what brave fool with just one wishie,
would dare to say
“don’ touch the fishie”?
Bravo!
?
Perfection.
Priceless! (I still visit the don’t touch the fishy post nearly everyday!)
Love it! 😀
So brilliant!!!!
Nicely done!
Magnificent!