Poor Yogi Bear and Boo Boo too,
The scandal'd be funny if it weren't so true.
While everyone considered them pesky but sweet,
But in fact, neath those furs, they were both packing heat.
You see Yogi and Boo Boo were hit men for hire,
Selling their services to the highest buyer.
For merely the price of one picnic basket,
They'd place your worst enemy in a mahogany casket.
Yogi and Boo were cold-blooded killers,
The kind that you'd find in some Stephen King thrillers,
Some bears are grizzles and some bears are black,
But these furry assassins, they'd stab in the back.
They might sneak up behind you at night in the camp,
Just waiting for you to blow out your lamp.
And when in your tent you were sleeping away,
They would finish you off so that they'd earn their pay.
And no one would ever suspect that these two,
Were members of the Murder Incorporated crew,
The muscle was Yogi, and Boo Boo, the brains,
And they covered it all up as huckleberry stains.
Still Yogi and Boo Boo were finally caught,
When Deputy Dawg, these two scoundrels had shot.
With no chance for parole, they were sentenced to life,
With no spoons, no forks, not even a knife.
So was Yogi smarter than the average bear?
Well, I suppose give him credit for avoiding the chair,
He still couldn't bear to live life behind bars,
He'd rather be begging from park-goers cars.
And Boo Boo ...in this poem,
after he boo-booed, he never went home.