We had a little family tree
It's bark was black with age
So many folk have sat beneath
it's gnarles at every stage.
A boy child in his cradle
Could swing to rock-a-byes
And other folk like Aunty Meg
Just sat there telling lies.
Then sometimes came there winter
Black frost was white as snow
The cradle with the boy child
To a sudden stop would go.
But on the netherwalloped bench
Still sat our Aunty Meg
Quite happy in her frondsy pearls
Just eating scrambled egg.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Go on then. Cutesy stuff. Black frost as white as snow..lor! ! Some magical famil-tree happening....But all heart here. Enjoyable. Regards to the family. Cheers. Subroto