The sweet sound of tinkling bells,
The brillant rides bathed in light,
The poor boy will so tell,
He's never been to a place so bright.

Locked in his cellar for night and day,
By unworthy parents who do not care,
He will tell you, he will say,
He's never seen a sight so fair.

His caretakers look at him and smile,
Watching him marvel is a lovely sight,
Then they think of things that they saw on file,
And they knew they've done whats right.

His parents took his early years,
To waste and to make merry,
To play upon his greatest fears,
And then him they were to bury.

But the world was not so weak,
That it would stand by and watch him die,
Though the parents went to court to wreak,
Havoc and to reason why,
The world stood firm and downed the freaks,
And said the child need no longer cry.

So he runs to the nearest ride,
Completely forgotten is his own plight,
Then he is caught up in the gleeful tide,
And cries of joy soon ring the night.
Mormegil | 9:36 PM |