Sloth
A Bradypus or Sloth am I?
I live a life of ease
Contended not to do or die
But idle as I please
I have three toes on either foot
Or half a dozen both
With leaves and fruit 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 would 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 Cæsar
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
Contended not to do or die
But idle as I please
I have three toes on either foot
Or half a dozen both
With leaves and fruit 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 would 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 Cæsar
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
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