There once was a boy wearing purple socks
who lived all alone in a carton box
He slept in a garden down the hill
where violets bloomed while the time stood still...
his only friend was a silver bat
who could not fly cos he was so fat
they played all day and they slept all night
and cared less what was wrong or right
one Monday night came a brownish snake
luring the bat with a smile so fake
the boy wasn't able to compete
and was left to admit his own defeat
then the violets died and the carton flew
and the little boy we were keen on grew
so my story ends in a boring way
cos it's not a fairy-talish cliché...