Little flower here in this field
Can you some information yield
On how life is in this large space,
Is it a crawl, or is it a race?
It varies very much , of course
Sometimes for better, sometimes worse.
At times it's full of heavenly peace,
At others, full of noisy geese!
Little flower with yellow head,
All alone in your green bed,
These noisy geese can be no joke,
But what about the hiking folk?
Now once again there is a choice,
Some are quiet, some make a noise;
I'm wary of those on a walk,
Oblivious to my tender stalk.
Little flower who shines so bright,
That surely cannot be quite right.
You mean to say that some out there
Do not watch out and take no care?
Ah, do not fret, if flowers you love,
We have protection up above;
Our lives are short, but full of joy,
No one, nothing, can us annoy.
Little flower, whom I hold high,
Beneath my neck, beyond my eye,
I can't see, but hear you mutter,
Tell me please, do I like butter?
You hear me mutter my last words,
No longer will I see the birds
Or hear them singing in the breeze;
But rest assured, you e'en like cheese!