In the tinktingaling of the bells where they swing
there’s twisted and prickly thicket
wherein dreams caterpillars go wishing for wings
to the songs of a wandering cricket.
Till, one Summer’s evening…
out past the Pinks posing…
……….. past Rosie and Daisy quite pleasantly dozing…
…………………….. through fading gold oceans of small flowers closing…
A spider queen came grinning in the darkness of the night,
Spinning sticks into a palace as the meadow filled with fright.
Inside she kept one hundred flies
That buzzed around her hundred eyes,
And wispy woven windows blocked the light.
A pink moth one day
Was at play in the flowers,
Dancing between them for hours.
She spun in the sun and she flit with a flair.
She looped and she swooped as she floated on air.
She glided the glade like a small pink parade,
While the cricket sat fiddling a sweet serenade.
& a sinister wind set the bells to a-tink-ling,
The moth was sent toe-ward and tumbling.
She valiantly veered
and with tiny wings reared,
but the winds only sneered at her stumblings.
With malice they swept her right up to the palace,
and into the cup where the queen liked to sup.
Now, Cricket was ticked now, he’d watched the queen’s trick
So he hopped to the door with a whispering roar:
Let me in! Let me in! I am freeing the moth!
I won’t let her cook in your spider’s broth!
– He called out to the queen.
Yes, he hopped to her throne,
Over piles of bone,
While the flies the queen ties filled the room with a drone.
And he begged, Let her go! Please set the moth free!
Don’t you think you’d be happier (gulp)… capturing… me?
And as the queen listened her hundred eyes glistened.
The cricket seemed like quite the treat,
With legs that teemed with bites of meat.
Oh, what a dreamy sight to eat!
So she let the moth go, who was bony and thinner,
And tied up the cricket to have for her dinner.
Darkness curled upon the world,
The stars were swirling soon.
All wash hushed with evening’s blush
Beneath the pearly moon.
The cricket wished to fly away,
Then lifted up his wings to play . . .
He fiddled a tune
That was simple and sad,
Afloat with a stumbling step . . .
Over hills tumbled trills
Like an elephants dance,
Into windows of bedrooms it crept . . .
Like a butterfly’s kiss,
A mere whisper of bliss,
In the ears of the dreamers that slept . . .
Through a forest of bluebells
Where shivering flowers
Bowed down to the music and wept.
And outside flying all that eve
The frightened moth refused to leave:
Oh, brave cricket!, she exclaimed,
You saved my life, you are my flame!
I wish that there were more of me,
We’d slay the queen and set you free!
And all night long the wicked spider
Felt the song move deep inside her.
Touched the coal that was her soul
And made her heart feel lighter.
So, she said to the cricket: There’s no need to fret,
I don’t think that I’ll eat you yet.
I’ll throw a ball for bugs who brawl,
And punch and pinch with things.
A Hullababall for creeps who crawl,
And skitterers with stings.
Tomorrow night the bugs who bite
Will hear you play your wings!
We’ll do the hop and if you stop
You’ll get an awful whack!
So, cast your spell, and do it well,
Or you’ll end up a snack!
As the morning sun was warming
Meadow bugs came swiftly swarming
Save the cricket!
Storm the thicket!
Save him from the spider!
Pinch her bum
And make her run,
And all the bedbugs bite her!
With a flurry
Make her worry.
Hurry, hurry, make her scurry!
Save the cricket,
Storm the thicket,
Save him from the spider!
They tried every trick
But the web was too thick,
And they knew if they touched it
They surely would stick,
So the fight was the spider’s to win.
That night by the light of a great grinning moon,
From out of the fur of an itcy babboon,
From hills and from hives crawled spiders and ants,
And slithery snakes wearing argyle pants,
And proud purple prowlers preparing to dance.
Come one, come all to the Hullababall!
They wore their best dresses, and polka dot ties,
And sipped honey wine as they dipped chocolate flies.
And all of this time
the thicket was swaying
as if to some spell it was blindly obeying.
For deep in those sticks, never piping nor peeping,
Before that mean spider had ever come creeping,
A thousand smiling caterpillars silently were sleeping.
And now from their slumber the sleepers were waking.
The palace was shaking.
…The branches were breaking.
Run for your lives! the spider queen ranted.
Head for your hives, the music’s enchanted!
But cricket kept playing a tune so entrancing,
The bugs found they couldn’t, they wouldn’t stop dancing.
Their green teeth were gnashing,
Their stingers were slashing,
They hopped to the blue cricket’s song.
They waltzed with a crashing
– Quite dapper and dashing –
And leapt as it swept them along.
Then… everywhere blooming… with bright wings unfurled…
A thousand white butterflies entered the world.
At first they were groggy from all of that napping,
But then, one by one, little wings started flapping.
They stirred up a whirlwind of dancers and flies,
And the world all around them was rumbling.
And then, the pink moth in a waspish disguise
Appeared as the palace was tumbling.
Quick, Crick! Take my hands! she called to the cricket,
We’ll follow the butterflies out of the thicket!
So hands holding hands they leapt from the crowd
And into the rising white butterfly cloud.
Up up and away! on the wishing of wings.
Higher than spiders and higher than kings
They flew to the isle of the moon.
And last they were seen
The Pink Moth was queen,
And Cricket was king of the moon.
They ruled with a spoon
And a ticklish tune,
And they stayed there and played
Till the next afternoon.
Oh so high in the shimmering,
Shining and glimmering
Light of the smiling moon.
The moon, the moon, the moon, the moon,
The light of the smiling moon.
– The End –