Quanah smells a flower. Goes looking for that flower.
Wants to be where such a flower grows.
He climbs down his tower and there’s a little shower
CFC but he doesn’t mind, it feels good on his toes.
He crosses over the river, crosses over the road,
crosses over, walks along the garden rows.
To the lady he does give her a smile and a nod.
He says, I’ll bring you back the flower, I suppose.
The kind lady looks strange, but there’s no time to explain,
he crosses over several other meadows.
And, when he can go no longer, the scent is even stronger
of the most beautiful anyone knows.
He lies down in the leaves to sleep, he believes,
and to dream of boxes with bows.
In the morning he sees, awake he believes,
that flower growin’ out of his knows.