I was born a brown tadpole,
In a pool of mud,
To join a score just like me
The forest in our blood.
I was happy as a tadpole,
When I woke with some surprise,
Little arms and legs appeared,
And a taste for buzzing flies.
I was a born again tree frog,
As green as a gardener's thumb,
With a long, spring action tongue,
And a penchant for pond scum.
I am now a green tree frog,
Clinging tightly to the shade,
Where all good, insipid tree frogs
Flee from the hot summer days.
I am but a green tree frog,
Peeping from under the toilet seat,
Cosy in the warmth of the dark,
Until a scream makes me retreat.
I am still a green tree frog,
With a sweet song for the night,
Provided a chorus accompanies me
Because that is only polite.
So please, put away your flashlights,
And drive carefully on the road,
I'm just a little green tree frog,
Not a fat, warty toad.