I'D like to be a butterfly,

With wings of glorious hue,

And flutter in the bright warm sun

And drink the morning dew.

But when it comes to winter,

I'd hibernate or die

No more to feel the bright warm sun

Or see the clouds on high.

I'd like to be a blackbird

And sing with might and main,

To tell the world I've got a mate

And spring is here again.

But when it comes to winter,

With snow and hail and rain,

I'd huddle in the leafless hedge

And wish for spring again.

I'd like to be a cherry tree,

With blossom white and fair

And show the world my lovely looks,

With flowers in my hair.

But when it comes to winter,

With branches cold and bare,

I'd tremble in the cruel wind,

No flowers in my hair.

But then, I'm really glad I'm me.

I see the birds and flowers

And butterflies - and feel the warmth

Of summer's sunny hours.

And when it comes to winter,

No leaves upon the tree,

I'll go inside, sit by the fire.

I'm really glad I'm me.

Submitted by J A Welburn,

West Knapton.

Updated: 10:54 Wednesday, February 19, 2003