A lonely little Melody,
was scribbled on a pad,
was never sung, was never heard,
was silent, and was sad!

When sung, she was, our Melody,
A lovely little tune.
But asking for performance seemed
like asking for the moon.

A grating sound came from a branch.
‘Hi, Melody,’ said Crow,
‘I’d like to sing you, but I can’t,
My voice is way too low.’

Poor Melody, she shed a tear,
two tears, or maybe three.
‘I wish there was a little bird,
to sing me,’ was her plea.

‘Hi Melody,’ Sir Pigeon cooed
and grunted from a tree.
‘I’d like to sing you, but I can’t,
You’re way too tough for me.’

Poor Melody, she shed a tear,
four tears, or maybe five,
kept waiting for another bird
to sing herself alive.

A honking sound came from the pond.
‘Hi Melody,’ said Goose,
‘I’d like to sing you, but I can’t,
My voice is of no use.’

Poor Melody, she shed a tear,
six tears, or seven, eight.
‘I wish a bird would sing me soon
or death will be my fate.’

A quacking sound came from the lake.
‘Hi Melody,’ said Duck,
‘I tried to sing you, but I failed.
Somehow my voice got stuck.’

Poor Melody, she shed a tear,
nine tears, or maybe ten,
kept waiting for another bird
and then came Mister Wren.

Wren started warbling Melody,
sweet music to the ears,
and Melody, she wept and wept
a million happy tears.

Tooske Hinloopen, februari 2023