Most stories seem to start, you see,
in a time far distant,
Or with a ship putting out to sea.
My story is different, however,
About a sweet young thing
Who wanted to sing.
So off on an adventure she went.
Facing loud rumbling voices,
And deep, dark dissent.
Her journey was scary
But on she did tarry
Until she had shared
A tale of how she feared
A note and a sharp
That she should know
By heart. For there is
nothing as scary as to
Frighten Miss Mary,
A maiden so sweet
Minding her way
Down the street
Than to take her away
On a ship from the bay.
So this story now ends
With a la and a blend
As she sings and she sings
And she sings!
