BUTTERFLY LAUGHTER
Inthe middle of our porridge platesThere was a blue butterfly paintedAnd each morning we tried who should reach the butterfly first.Then the Grandmother said: “Do not eat the poor butterfly.”That made us laugh.Always she said it and always it started us laughing.It seemed such a sweet little joke.I was certain that one fine morningThe butterfly would fly out of the plates,Laughing the teeniest laugh in the world,And perch on the Grandmother’s lap.
Inthe middle of our porridge platesThere was a blue butterfly paintedAnd each morning we tried who should reach the butterfly first.Then the Grandmother said: “Do not eat the poor butterfly.”That made us laugh.Always she said it and always it started us laughing.It seemed such a sweet little joke.I was certain that one fine morningThe butterfly would fly out of the plates,Laughing the teeniest laugh in the world,And perch on the Grandmother’s lap.
Inthe middle of our porridge platesThere was a blue butterfly paintedAnd each morning we tried who should reach the butterfly first.Then the Grandmother said: “Do not eat the poor butterfly.”That made us laugh.Always she said it and always it started us laughing.It seemed such a sweet little joke.I was certain that one fine morningThe butterfly would fly out of the plates,Laughing the teeniest laugh in the world,And perch on the Grandmother’s lap.