John Bliven Morin (September 16th,1936 / New London, CT)
The Tiny Family
Down past the roses in the flow'ring dell
live a very tiny family in a walnut shell;
You may pass them by and never know,
for they're very, very small in their bungalow.
Papa is proud and a little fat
as he putters in the garden in a big red hat;
Mama's in the kitchen cooking up a meal;
Nell is helping Mama with a carrot peel.
A gray-green mite pulls the plow along
as Bobby sings an ancient tilling song;
A bluebird chirps a lovely harmony,
accomp'nied by a passing bumble bee.
'Tis said that Papa once was a king
and they lived in a palace with everything,
but an evil witch cast a powerful spell
one evening at the toll of the sunset bell.
They found themselves tiny, and to their grief,
blowing in the wind on a passing leaf,
far from the palace and over the trees,
they flew far away on the evening breeze.
Down they came and lightly fell,
just past the roses in the flow'ring dell,
and there they bravely made their home,
with the help of a fairy and a friendly gnome.
Do they regret losing everything,
to live in the glen where the robins sing?
Free of worries and all worldly care,
the tiny little family is quite happy there
If you go down where the roses grow,
take care where you step, for now you know
of the tiny little family in the walnut shell,
down past the roses in the flow'ring dell!
Copyright (C) 2013 by John Bliven Morin
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