Each of us has in our soul
A portion of Eagle,
A portion of Mole.
One soars in the sunlight,
One snores in a hole.
The mountain, which looks like a prop
Is black at the bottom and white at the top.
Soldiers surround it with twine;
I have to cut through it
To claim what is Mine.
The summit is marked by a tree;
My double in uniform challenges me.
He says “is the tree mine?”,
I say "tap it and see."
So he drives in a platinum spout,
He turns the tap on and all this jelly comes out.
Royal Jelly, which I have stored in this tree,
In an earlier lifetime, when I was a Bee.
Yeah, I’m a King Bee, though my wings be furled,
And my kingdom is not of this World.
Bee Dream from Peter Blegvad, Just Woke Up (1995)
(click on link to play)
For more Peter Blegvad, see here and here.
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