There once was an oyster whose story I tell,
Who found that some sand had gotten into his shell.
It was only a grain, but it gave him great pain.
For oysters have feelings although they're so plain.
Now, did he berate the harsh workings of fate
That had brought him to such a deplorable state?
Did he curse the government, cry for election,
And claim that the sea should have given him protection?
'No,' he said to himself as he lay on a shell,
Since I cannot remove it, I'll try to improve it.
Now the years have rolled around, as the years always do,
And he came to his ultimate destiny . . . . stew.
And the small grain of sand that had bothered him so
Was a beautiful pearl all richly aglow.
Now the tale has a moral, for isn't it grand
What an oyster can do with a morsel of sand?
What couldn't we do if only we'd begin
With some of the things that get under our skin.
|
