Of wallabies who get as high as kites --
They like to eat the poppies, so they say.
Then crazily they -- no, don't get in fights --
But run around in little fairy rings
Until they fall down dizzy and they crash.
While I still favor ordinary things,
Like ropes and boards and scissors, I'll not trash
This tale as yet another theorem
For how crop circles come to be out there.
Marsupials on opium? Condemn
Them not! They like a good time, to be fair,
As much as aliens and people do,
And naturally some mischief will ensue.