The jungles dense down by the fence
with daisies tall as trees,
where butterflies so softly rise
upon a summers breeze.

There's beetles too of black and blue
and orange white and red,
plus bumble bees with hairy knees
out by the flower bed.

Then by the pond beneath a frond
a mouse of purest white,
takes from a sack his hat and mac
a sword and compass bright.

Today he seeks the jagged peaks
of old mount rockery,
where it is told a land of gold
lays in the shrubbery.