An earwig, brown and also shiny
sat on a river bank, alone.
Compared to others he was tiny,
a critter made of skin and bone.

This mission's solitary aim
was simply to elucidate
his role in God's creation game,
to find himself, at any rate.

For many long and lonely hours
he stared into the stream's reflection.
Half sitting in a sea of flowers,
a specimen of weird perfection.

And when the Moon arrived at last,
dead shadows out to find their prey,
the little guy crawled very fast
into a giant stack of hay.

His intricate, but feeble mind
was at a loss as much as ever,
his image, front and from behind
did look presentable, but never

would he resemble to keen eyes
a hairless critter, plain and nude,
and to this day he does despise
the EARWIG name as rather crude.

Herbert Nehrlich

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/do-earwigs-have-hair/