THE ELF AND THE DORMOUSE
Under a toadstool crept a wee elf,
Out of the rain, to shelter himself.
Under the toadstool, sound asleep,
Sat a big dormouse all in a heap.
Trembled the wee elf, frightened, and yet
Fearing to fly away lest he get wet.
To the next shelter – maybe a mile!
Sudden the wee elf smiled a wee smile,
Tugged till the toadstool toppled in two,
Holding it over him, gaily he flew.
Soon he was safe at home, dry as could be,
Soon woke the dormouse – “Good gracious me!
Where is my toadstool?” loud he lamented.
And that’s how umbrellas first were invented.