I’m bucolic-aholic, I’ve dirt under my fingers,
I will be re-enchanted again.
Sometimes I’m metallic,
But I’ll never be plastic,
Because I don’t like bright colours,
And I don’t easily bend. • More
I’ve two left feet,
I move like a Spirograph,
In and around and between.
I’ve seen the colour of magic,
And it is totally irrational,
The logical won’t like what they see.
I’ve got what I need to colour my pencils,
And caffeine to sharpen the tips.
I’ve got what I need to colour my pencils,
And caffeine to sharpen the tips.