John Lennon
John Lennon
John Lennon
John Lennon
John Lennon
John Lennon
John Lennon
John Lennon
John Lennon
John Lennon
John Lennon
John Lennon
John Lennon
John Lennon
John Lennon
John Lennon
John Lennon
John Lennon
John Lennon
John Lennon
John Lennon
John Lennon
John Lennon
John Lennon
John Lennon
John Lennon
John Lennon
John Lennon
John Lennon
John Lennon
John Lennon
John Lennon
I sat belonely down a tree,
humbled fat and small.
A little lady sing to me
I couldn't see at all.
I'm looking up and at the sky,
to find such wondrous voice.
Puzzly puzzle, wonder why,
I hear but have no choice.
'Speak up, come forth, you ravel me',
I potty menthol shout.
'I know you hiddy by this tree'.
Dut still she won't come out.
Such softly singing lulled me sleep,
an hour or two or so
I wakeny slow and took a peep
and still no lady show.
Then suddy on a little twig
I thought I see a sight,
A tiny little tiny pig,
that sing with all it's might.
'I thought you were a lady'.
I giggle, well I may,
To my surprise the lady,
got up - and flew away.