Having been done with stories of size, I
now wish to move to those of shapes. One another for the daughter. The
size I want to be, the size she is. Thin.
Five Fat Friends,
A, B, C, D and E stuck together.
Played too, danced on sticks,
Happy beats,
Your dainty drum-kit.
A told B, "Let's give the little girl a gift".
C agreed, as did D and E.
They decided upon a song, a song for you.
So when you sit with them
And don't get the tune you were looking for, listen.
Five Fat Friends sing for one.
A song for you.
My daughter is the kind who gets restless very easily. I believe in her sense of rhythm and don't want her to be angry when she can't reach up to the cymbal. Her beloved Aunty-L gave her a pretty drum-set. I completed it with giving her a naughty idea of scribbling on the drum-tops. Over eagerly she walked to it this evening, "Tucker, I have new dum-kit. You don't have, um-hm."
Hope she listens well. Hope she finds a melody of her own.
Hope she listens well. Hope she finds a melody of her own.
3 comments:
Tap tap, rut-a-tut, drum beats for every heart,
Here's bass, there's a chim,
There's a tinkle not so thin,
I see blacksheep's daughter play
With cymbals and shakers
Through her day!
Hi aunty L @-}--
So how is the drumkit?
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