UNDER THE MOON
Henrietta the Spider is knitting
a night-cap of finely woven silver for her sweetheart,
with tassels all of fallen stars and a bobble made of blue cheese.
Where, where?
Under the Moon!
The King of the Frogs is beating a drum with an old chicken bone
and wonders why his belly is aching.
Silly King of Frogs, - it is your own stomach you are beating!
Where, where?
Under the Moon!
Under the Moon!
The Prince of Pastel City is standing beneath a balcony
with one foot in a bucket of cold porridge and the other in a pretty jewelled clipper.
"Marionette, sweet Marionette" he cries
"Will you not come out and dance for me?"
From the shadows of an ancient oak an owl regards him mournfully.
Where, where?
Under the Moon!
Under the Moon!
One day I was travelling upon the Golden Highway
between Crossing-town and Worlds End.
I saw a gathering of field elves dressed in ragged kilts and cast-off clothing obviously stolen from some Oxfam or Tenovus Charity store.
"Why are you dancing in ragged kilts and cast-off clothing obviously st
olen from some Oxfam or Tenovus Charity store?"
I asked them, thinking it might make a worthy subject for dissertation at college or public bar.
but they pelted me with cow pats and vanished down an old mine shaft.
Where, where?
Under the Moon!
Under the Moon!
Goodness Henrietta, are you still here knitting,
how many heads does your sweetheart have,
and why are there so many dead flies and tiny bones in the night-cap you are making him?
Surely it will give him nightmares!
Every time I see you, you are knitting, knitting, knitting,
where and when do you find time to sweet talk your beloved?
Where, where?
Under the Moon, under the Moon.
Under the silvery, silvery Moon!
