The Sloth
A Bradypus, or Sloth, am I,
I live a life of ease;
Contented not to do or die,
But idle as I please.
I have three toes on either foot,
Or half a doz on both;
With leaves and fruits and shoots to eat,
How sweet to be a Sloth!
The world is such a cheerful place
When viewed from upside-down;
It makes a rise of every fall,
A smile of every frown;
I watch the fleeting flutter by
Of butterfly or moth,
And think of all the things I'd try
If I were not a Sloth.
I could climb the very highest Himalayas,
Be among the greatest ever tennis players,
Win at chess, or marry a Princess,
Or study hard and be an eminent professor;
I could be a millionaire, play the clarinet, travel everywhere,
Learn to cook, catch a crook, win a war then write a book about it;
I could paint a Mona Lisa,
I could be another Caesar,
Compose an oratorio that was sublime.
The door's not shut on my genius but
I just don't have the time!
For days and days among the trees
I sleep and dream and doze,
Just gently swaying in the breeze
Suspended by my toes;
While eager beavers overhead
Rush through the undergrowth;
I watch the clouds beneath my feet,
How sweet to be a Sloth!
I live a life of ease;
Contented not to do or die,
But idle as I please.
I have three toes on either foot,
Or half a doz on both;
With leaves and fruits and shoots to eat,
How sweet to be a Sloth!
The world is such a cheerful place
When viewed from upside-down;
It makes a rise of every fall,
A smile of every frown;
I watch the fleeting flutter by
Of butterfly or moth,
And think of all the things I'd try
If I were not a Sloth.
I could climb the very highest Himalayas,
Be among the greatest ever tennis players,
Win at chess, or marry a Princess,
Or study hard and be an eminent professor;
I could be a millionaire, play the clarinet, travel everywhere,
Learn to cook, catch a crook, win a war then write a book about it;
I could paint a Mona Lisa,
I could be another Caesar,
Compose an oratorio that was sublime.
The door's not shut on my genius but
I just don't have the time!
For days and days among the trees
I sleep and dream and doze,
Just gently swaying in the breeze
Suspended by my toes;
While eager beavers overhead
Rush through the undergrowth;
I watch the clouds beneath my feet,
How sweet to be a Sloth!
Credits
Writer(s): Michael Flanders
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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