Bridge To Coragoon
There is a place called Coragoon,
where the dragonlings, make you swoon;
so cute and cuddly are they,
that you will want to stay and play.
Coragoon has many creatures;
it’s full of fun, abundant leisure;
you can romp with rabbit clans
or eat candy-pizza, from a pan.
The faeries there will do your hair,
all fancy-free, without a care;
a hobbit you may chance to see,
but from you shyly, he may flee.
In the misty moonlight’s beams,
silver threads of magic streams;
cascading down like spider webs,
the light waves there, flow and ebb.
Should you see a yellow fox,
he’ll have to knit you golden socks;
they are rather shy, you see,
unlike the common bumble bees.
Off into the Maltese skies,
on dragonlings, you will fly;
with funnel clouds like tilt-a-whirls,
spewing generous, crystal pearls.
A joyous rain that sprinkles down,
on Coragoon’s little village towns;
go catch the raindrops on your tongue,
Coragoon’s strictly for the young.
Go cross that bridge and play all day,
keeping childhood fears, at bay;
Joyous elation, you will see,
hidden in those emerald trees.
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