It is summer, the sun beats down on the Elf Tree.
No drop of rain for weeks, rain, people are needing
Whilst the leaves on the trees, are yellow and curling,
The blades of grass once soft bright green
Are now brittle brown needles felt and seen.
Thirsty are the little people.
The fairies, witch and wizard, are away, no one to help the people.
The gnomes can no longer make their wine,
Little water to cook with, so sparingly dine.
Ladybird has an idea, speaks to Sam the spider
Who calls his sister cousins and brothers.
They meet to discuss this serious problem.
Coming up with a clever plan,
That they all weave webs, as many as they can;
For at night, when cooler, little drops of moisture are found;
Each drop carefully, collected by pixies,
Who pour it into jugs for safe keeping.
When king Oberon returns home
He is proud of his subjects, who alone,
Withstood the dreadful drought.
“High praise for Ladybird, spiders and pixies,” all heard him shout.
