• Once when I was little girl,
    My mother said to me:
    Look past the hills, look past the valleys, and you will see the sea.

    The sea is like bucket,
    Except with no end in sight.
    And the whitest white at the bottem,
    Are much darker then night.

    The creatures that live there,
    Are much more to be feared,
    Then then fox that walks, a dog that sings,
    Or a huntsman with a beard.

    There are wonders good and bad,
    Like everywhere, you see,
    But there is nothing quite as beautiful,
    As watching waves in the sea.