A rubber suit hangs lonely and abandonedAcross a low hung branch by water’s edgeSingular witness to the latest dread attackOf Cascade lake’s infamous predatory Walrus.States a local but unwritten lawBeknownst to all,Or so at least tis rumored,That each morningBetwixt Memorial weekendAnd the Labor Day HolidayA fresh faced and delicious unwrapped tourist,Picked by those who care,Will be baptized and deliveredWillingly or screamingAs raw hors d’oeuvresAt breakfast, lunch and tea.