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Deep Down In The Bublalu

Deep down in the Bublalu,

Where masticating monkeys chew,

The khula thorns and brambersnit,

And then at passing tourists spit,

With accuracy sure and true,

The seeds and pips and khula-goo,

Until they hit you in the eye,

When with a shriek and piercing cry,

They leap and jump and dance about,

And that is why I don't go out.

High up in the Manadees,

There live the fuzzy talking trees,

Who's purple flowers look so bright,

They dazzle you with such a sight,

But should you pick one then beware,

Attached to them, a fearsome snare,

That pulls you in and wraps you tight,

Until you vanish out of sight,

Then swallow you up in their snout,

And that is why I don't go out.

In Bublalu,

Where monkeys chew,

And Manadees,

With talking trees,

There is no place,

To show your face,

Nowhere that's calm,

And safe from harm,

And so I say, without a doubt,

That that is why I don't go out.

smiley - birosmiley - birosmiley - biro

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