Quietly the frogs, their flutes they began to play,
The tuneful melody could be heard through-out the day.
Gradually the night upon them came,
The music that the frogs made claiming to fame.
The gentle rustle off the water reeds tall,
The ripples in the water as the leaves fall.
The gentle stillness beginning to fade,
As in fys the flamingo parade...
One, two, three. One, two, three,
They sprung and they sprang,
One,two,three. One, two, three,
And on the flutes sang.
One, two, three. One, two, three,
They arabesqued and plied,
One, two, three. One, two, three,
Their Pumage did fade...
The mist swept around the silent lake,
The breath from each mouth it did take.
It encircled the frogs and covered their eyes,
The flamingos had gone, off into the skys...
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