When tilted away from the sun Up north we have lots of fun We dance in the dark And lark in the park Until, exhausted, we’re done
There once was a very fine boulder. No one in the meadow was bolder. He gathered flowers for several hours. His true love? Over he bowled her.
There once was a man from Kazoo who fell into a strawberry stew. He said, ‘This is no joke-a’ while the band played a polka and the man kicked the stew all askew.
Those logs there are bouncy. Isn’t that daft? It’s called then, of course, the Trampoline Raft. Its owners aren’t bouncing. They’re swimming, not pouncing. Who are they? Why, twins! Listen! They laughed!
Oh, see the mysterious Med of the East. Can she really be some sort of beast? She has a green beard. That’s a little bit weird. The rumors about her have never deceased.
When Amzo was the Queen of Clover her daughter to a Dragon she had to hand over A rescue, it seems, was found only in dreams and a sliver of hope in a magical rover
In the Swump of Greedge beyond Long Thin Lake live a pair of swumpogglers always awake. Of beaks each has two. They use them, it’s true, to sing 4-part harmony pretty as cake.
What a handsome wizard is Billow Splash with pale blue eyes so long of lash. Maidens galore fall on the floor whenever he offers to take out the trash.
Weedthistle flits there and about. She tends to the honey. Of that there’s no doubt. Magnificent things are her bright yellow wings. Whenever she flaps ’em – oh dazzle, sing out!
The witchlet sisters are lost in snow. Where did they come from? Where will they go? I can tell where they’ll dwell. In the windwhirl’s land where the chack trees grow.