My Life Is A Lovely Story, Happy

He Looked At The Little Maiden, And She Looked At Him; And He Felt That He Was Melting Away, But He Still Managed To Keep Himself Erect, Shouldering His Gun Bravely. A Door Was Suddenly Opened, The Draught Caught The Little Dancer And She Fluttered Like A Sylph, Straight Into The Fire, To The Soldier, Blazed Up And Was Gone! By This Time The Soldier Was Reduced To A Mere Lump, And When The Maid Took Away The Ashes Next Morning She Found Him, In The Shape Of A Small Tin Heart. All That Was Left Of The Dancer Was Her Spangle, And That Was Burnt As Black As A Coal.

Each Time I Think That The Song Is Ended ... Something Higher And Better Begins For Me.

It Is Out Of Reality That The Most Peculiar Tale Of All Is Born ... Some Call Me The Elder Granny, Others - The Dryad, But My Real Name Is Memory. It Is I Who Sits On A Tree That Keeps On Growing, And Growing, It Is I Who Reminisces And Tells Stories.

In The Days Of Moses And The Prophets Such A Man Would Have Been Counted Among The Wise Men Of The Land; In The Middle Ages He Would Have Been Burned At The Stake.

How Little Do The Wisest Among Us Know Of That Which Is So Important To Us All.