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There's a winding path, in- trodden by curious feet, where to those still not sleeping, a magical world unfolds its petals. Where an imagination behol..
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And if I fell, then well,
I would just flap my arms and try,
and I think I'd say, that on this day,
I'd probably survive.
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The old man was not poor,
but neither was he kind,
and alas, we would find,
his resentment for the law.
He showed us all his games;
he enshavelle..
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What a big bunch of miggeldy higgle,
caused by someone with snickerty fiddle,
small tiny things, oh how so little,
but if not done you're caught in..
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I walked onto a dandelion,
and into it I fell.
A forest fit for flying,
so I knew to hold on well.
A trunk to wrap my arms around,
to set a'sai..
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