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
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