Up with your rug
The tree house is under attack,
no time for a snack.
Out of my cul-de-sac,
I like to be alone
Sometimes, green vines
on the house wall,
shall we start small,
and grow, supporting each other,
beaver, wombat, and otter,
Come out and fight,
With all your might,
What a glorious sight!

And then, when the day
is over, and I may
fall in my bed,
to dreams one more,
about that time, mild,
when I was a child.