There was an elf, an elf
There were many things he could not do.
He couldn’t stick his toe in his left ear.
He couldn’t sing when any frogs were near.
He couldn’t count all the stars at night.
He couldn’t eat an egg in just one bite.
He couldn’t reach behind his head,
Or pick dead leaves up off his bed.
He couldn’t jump over ten feet high.
He couldn’t scratch above his eye.
He couldn’t old ten pigs in his hand,
Or kill a dinosaur with a rubber band.
But there were some things that Bu could do.
He could make delicious Irish stew.
He could shoot an arrow high in the air.
He could spot any rabbit or any hare.
He could help a lame duck fix its wing.
He could cure an awful sore bee sting.
Bu could be the best friend you’d ever had.
The things he couldn’t do just didn’t seem so bad.