There’s a  group on Facebook, oh what a sight,
Where Newfoundlanders gather to share day and night,
With tales of the weird, the wild, and the bold,
From car salesmen judging to secrets retold.

There’s a fella named Doug with a passion for Trump,
Says, “Make Newfoundland great!” while he’s sitting on a stump,
But his neighbours just chuckle, rolling their eyes,
As they dodge the dog poop that’s come as a surprise.

The stench in the street? Oh, it’s quite a feat,
Like a pungent perfume that just can't be beat.
“Is that mustard or mayo?” one wise soul declares,
“Or just a lost moose who forgot how to care?”

And then come the skeets—oh, skeets galore!
They buzz through the air like they’re plotting a war,
“Get away!” we all scream, as they dive bumming darts,
Just a typical day in the heart of the smart!

Then there’s the folks with a Bible in hand,
Knocking on doors, spreading love through the land.
“Have you found Jesus?” they cheerfully ask,
While you’re just trying to avoid the dog-poop task.

“Hey, what’s that smell?” you might ask with a frown,
“It’s just my new condiment,” they say with a crown.
“Try this ‘beef-flavored ketchup’ or ‘pickle-flavored pie’—
It’s all the rage here, you gotta give it a try!”

And when you spot moose, well, hold your breath tight,
“Is that one with a Trump cap?”—what a curious sight!
In this quirky land where the strange becomes norm,
Newfoundland Confessionals—where laughter is born!

M. S Chandler