I love to slug a baseball.

And I sometimes slug a drink.

But, slug, I do find your name odd,

for a shell-less gastropod.

Though I do like your Martian eyes

that hide away at each surprise.

And you can’t run away from crime,

leaving all that trailing slime.

You may have some ugly faces,

but at least fit in small spaces.

And finally let’s talk of your vertical leaps.

You slime up a wall and it gives me the creeps.

It’s not that I think you’re an aggressive devil,

I just wish that you couldn’t rise to my level.

And so I must crown you Excelsior slug.

Or Mollusk, if you like. Don’t ask for a hug.