Some people have fairies and pixies
With whom they share wishes and vows,
But down at the end of my garden
I just have a herd of pink cows.
And no, I’ve not been at the bottle,
They’re not pink pachyderms just for me…
But on every clear night through the summer
They are there, plain for all eyes to see.
They must be quite magical creatures…
For by day they are just black and white,
But just watch as the sun gets to setting
And they will transform in the light.
The dog’s none too happy to see them
And could well live without them, she says.
But I love watching their transformation
As they bathe in the sun’s dying rays.
Now as fairies and pixies are tiny,
And leprechauns grant pots of gold,
Just how big a wish could they offer?
I could ask, but that might be…
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