Like a carpet beneath these feet
Shaggy rug, shaggy green.
The house of the beetle,
The floor for the trees.

A sponge to the sun,
A pillow for thy head,
The mossy, grassy runway
Walk run trot and tread

There little lady
Make a bed in the grass
Wrap yourself in ivy
Dream until you laugh

Up up up it reaches
The sun calls its name
Lady lost in greenery
Asleep in the hay

Fists of dirt
Ants for shirts
Rain water as afternoon tea

Songs of the sun
Rumplestiltskins pun
Awaken her so tenderly



Laaa laaa la.