Sands across the otter. Sands across the bee.
Sands across the blotter. Sands across the knee.

The lion boldly raged through the sea.
He had to take a drink or he couldn’t stand to flee.
I gave another glass and I dropped a cube of salt in a boiling pan.

Wouldn’t take it in ‘nything else,
But that shiny silver pan, so bright.

Sands across the otter. Sands across the bee.
Sands across the blotter. Sands across the knee.

And it the lion carried ‘cross the sea.
He had to use a hot mitt; he couldn’t take the heat.
By the time he got there, it had cool’n down from the cold and salty sea.

Sands across the otter. Sands across the bee.
Sands across the blotter. Sands across the knee.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, August 10th, 2010 at 10:10 pm and is filed under Blogging. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
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