The Frogman lives in the swamp, a creature of the night, Moving silently through the muck, with barely a sight, He knows the secrets of the bog, every sound and smell, And all the creatures that live there, in the murky swell. He jumps and dives, with grace and ease, Moving through the water, as though it's a breeze, The swamp is his home, where he feels alive, The Frogman is free, in his watery dive.