I woke up one day, looked down in surprise,
My scales were snug—I’d super-sized!
I hissed, “Oh no, I’ve got to get lean!
It’s time to ditch these snacks and cream!”

So I laced up shoes (don’t ask me how),
Stretched my tail, took off—and WOW!
I hit the trail, all set to run,
But three feet in… well, I was done.

Snakes don’t run, we slither slow,
These little legs? Well, they don’t show!
I tried to sprint, I tried my best,
But now I’m lying here… out of breath!

I huffed, I puffed, I wheezed and groaned,
I flopped right down and checked my phone.
"How do you jog with no feet at all?"
Turns out… snakes just creep and crawl!

So I tried again, a wiggly dash,
Through leaves and mud, a slippery splash!
But running’s hard when you’re shaped like rope—
Forget the race, I’ll buy a jump rope!

Snakes don’t run, we slither slow,
These little legs? Well, they don’t show!
I tried to sprint, I tried my best,
But now I’m lying here… out of breath!

Maybe I’ll swim… maybe I’ll dance…
Maybe I’ll just stretch my pants…
Or maybe I’ll find a fitness craze—
Snake yoga sounds like just my pace!


Snakes don’t run, we’re built to slide,
No need to sprint, no need to stride!
I’ll lift some weights, I’ll twist and bend,
But running? Nope! Never again!