Pickerton-Lou and the Tree of Music Under the Sky of Imagina
Take your time and listen well, This teller has a tale to tell. Voicing whispers of the trees That settle on the rustling leaves. Hear a rhyme from an emerald wood, Where all was more than understood, Of how an ancient song was lost And put to peril at the cost, Such life and love of a creature fair, Free as the skies in her mountain lair. How Sun and Moon spilt stars of tears, How a moth of the night allayed their fears. Where a girl from a wood, with creatures too, Put wrong to right as best they knew, Making a flower-song to bloom And sing its own immortal tune. Confronting dark-light mystery Restoring life to the Music Tree. Come now, kind folk, sit around, There's a story to be found. Stories set in ancient times Told by tellers of old rhymes, Bringing you such fascination, Under the Sky of Imagination. Dream and wonder! Hear the call! Welcome children, one and all. .... and so we may begin.
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