|
In shallow ponds the
tadpoles squirm, until they turn to frogs,
Among the rushes, lily pads, they form a froggy choir,
As each and ev'ry night they croak, and wake up all the
dogs,
A sound I love to listen to in bed as I retire.
Among the rushes, lily
pads, they form a froggy choir,
As "croak" and "ribbit" there is heard,
a song 'til early light,
A sound I love to listen to in bed as I retire,
A sound that tells me all is well and everything is
right.
As
"croak" and "ribbit" there is heard, a
song 'til early light,
I rest in sweet contentment as I listen to the sound,
A sound that tells me all is well and everything is right,
And though it seems so simple, it is very much profound.
I rest in sweet
contentment as I listen to the sound,
Among the rushes, lily pads, where moonlit waters gleam,
And though it seems so simple, it is very much profound,
A sound of such complexity, which spawns a simple dream.
Among the rushes, lily
pads, where moonlit waters gleam,
As each and ev'ry night they croak, and wake up all the
dogs,
A sound of such complexity, which spawns a simple dream,
In shallow ponds the tadpoles squirm, until they turn to
frogs.
by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul
|
