The Oyster
The Oyster
There once was an oyster whose story I tell, who found that some sand had got into his shell. It was only a grain, but it gave him great pain. For oysters have feelings although they're so plain. Now, did he berate the harsh workings of fate that brought him to za deplorable state? Did he curse at the government, cry for election, And claim that the sea should have given him protection?
No he said to himself as he lay on a shell, Since I cannot remove it I shall try to improve it. Now the years have rolled around, as the years always do. And he came to his ultimate destiny: stew.
And the small grain of sand that had bothered him so was a beautiful pearl all richly a glow. Now the tale has a moral, for isn't it grand what an oyster can do with a morsel of sand? What couldn't we do if we'd only begin with some of the things that get under our skin?
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