I can still recall old Mr. Barnslow getting out every morning and nailing a
fresh load of tadpoles to that old board of his. Then he'd spin it round and
round, like a wheel of fortune, and no matter where it stopped he'd yell out,
"Tadpoles! Tadpoles is a winner!"
We all thought he was crazy. But then, we had some growing up to do.
Over the wintry
forest, winds howl in rage
with no leaves to blow.