I sat belonely down a tree,

humbled fat and small,

A little lady sang to me,

I couldn’t see at all.

I’m looking up and at the sky,

to find such a wondrous voice,

Puzzle, puzzle, wonder why,

I hear but have no choice.

“Speak up come forth you rattle me”,

I potty menthol shout,

“I know you hiddy by this tree”,

but still she won’t come out.

Such softly singing lulled me sleep,

an hour or two or so,

I wakeny slow and took a peep,

and still no lady show.

Then suddenly on a little twig,

I thought I see a sight,

A tiny little tiny pig,

that sing with all its might.

“I thought you were a lady”,

I giggle – well I may,

To my surprise the lady,

got up-and flew away.

Well, what do you expect? It’s by John Lennon.

editdeletereply lauritasita wrote on Jan 15, ’08 This poem is from John Lennon’s first book.

deletereply akire74 wrote on Feb 17, ’08 I have that book and his second book Spaniard in the Works.  You have to love how much he delights in playing with words.  I’ve seen video clips of John reading some of these poems aloud on several shows and they make much more sense when he reads them.