On a bright spring day,
They come out to play,
Nodding their heads in that cheerful way.
His head bright and yellow,
His smell soft and mellow,
So that we say "What a cheerfull fellow".
He smiles so bright ,
in that grin warm and light,
tossed in the wind like a golden kite.
but summer will come,
and then hell grow numb,
and die in the light of the blazing sun.