Last laugh and a half is reserved for the humblest-by-happiest quokka,

Whose grumbly tumbly oft complements its genial grin’s, “Wokka, wokka!”

For if scarcity ever comes to play regarding their freshest fetish,

They just hop along in tow, after Sunday’s mow, noshing newest eddish. ; )

Vexillologists may just be too square

To ride a round on a go of merry,

But if their crest is crowned with joyful care,

Flagged by smile, they’ll fly a rising mare-y. ; )