I Write Poetry
There once was an oyster
Whose story I tell,
Who found that some sand
Had got into his shell.
It was only a grain,
But it caused him great pain,
For oysters have feelings
Although they're so plain.
Now did he berate
The harsh workings of fate
That had brought him
to such a deplorable state?
Did he curse at the Government?
Cry for election?
Claim that the sea
Should have given him protection?
No - he said to himself
As he lay on a shell,
"Since I cannot remove it,
I shall try to improve it."
Now the years have rolled around
As the years always do,
And he came to his ultimate
Destiny - stew!
And the small grain of sand
That had bothered him so
Was a beautiful pearl
All richly aglow.
Now the tale has a moral;
For isn't it grand
What an oyster can do
With a morsel of sand?
What couldn't we do
If we'd only begin
With some of the things
That get under our skin.
