The Phoenix

 

In midst of a time when no one sang,

No laughter was heard and no bells rang.

At the top of a hill, there sat a great phoenix.

A beautiful sight was this old green phoenix.

He’s the last of his kind, as everyone knows.

As lovely as the garden which Miss Mary grows.

The phoenix, being smart and incredibly wise,

Knows exactly what to do, when, how, and why.

He says that he comes from a never ending land,

And he’s willing to take you there, if he can.

It’s a place to let your imagination run wild.

Happiness is everywhere, mile after mile.

With a never ending day and a never ending night,

It is always dark and always light.

You can run through the hills and never grow weary,

Fly through the air and touch the sky nearly.

He’ll call you by every other name but your own,

For in Neverending Land all right is wrong.

You can be engulfed, by the magic of the land.

A quick trip now, just give him your hand.

Come, let’s go now, can’t you see?

It’s the perfect place for you and me.

You do not wish to go, I see.

That’s fine, I see a chap down the road.

I’m sure that he will want to know

About the phoenix and where he lives;

Of Neverending Land and all its gifts.

Chin up.  Now go your way.

I will ask you again some other day.

Think upon it.  Think deep and strong.

Hurry now, you do not have long.

He’s the last of his kind, as everyone knows

The phoenix will be gone before the cock crows.

So go now, and return without fail,

For you, yes you, must carry the tale;

Of the great green phoenix and his far away home,

Of Neverending Land and the prizes it holds.