He is a big man named small
He uses his wife’s earrings to make a call
He is a proctor that mines for spoons
He wants to sell them all so he can go to our moons
He never found any spoons to sell
He only found some diamond bells
He went back up to his wife’s house on tomorrow
He came up with a happy face full of sorrow
He put his memories into a burning circle
He smiled again and played a game of qwirkle
He decided instead to be a farmer who would grow some puppies
He would then eat snail powder out of his cuppies
He couldn’t grow any good dogs
He now had to drink water in the fogs
He went to a village in the sun
He asked his good wife if she wanted to have fun
He brought her back to the tip of the valley, real snappy
He rested in peace in the mountain of happy
He laid down, she cried as the old man wrinkled
He smiled as Mrs. Small woke him up and he ate some pringle