Once upon a time there lived in distant Waldorf lands
A king and queen who had a son,
A noble prince called Florian,
With a head and a heart and hands.
The great queen called her people all
To come to a gala dinner ball
In the land of the Ganga, sacred and old,
With its warmth of sun and wisdom of soul.
Now the queen had an Indian sister too,
Whose knowledge grew and grew and grew.
With her family of helpers she drew the strings
Which held together ten thousand things,
And for every problem that came her way
She found a solution and told it next day.
The captains of the many arts
Came from South, North and West to play their parts;
And among them there wafted, strong and mild,
Fairy godmothers of the little child.
Where they wave their magic wands over here, over there,
Kindergartens manifest out of the air.
The first guests arrived with wonder, the second with reverence;
The third of course brought harmony, and, regardless of expense,
The fourth they did surrender, with sacrifice immense.
Each morning they filled their souls with song
Bomma bomma, Bakesh shalom, shalom...
The king rose up and smacked his thigh.
He opened his mouth and looked on high,
His arms hung loose and with his ‘I’
He brought down the answer from out of the sky:
‘Oh yea, yea, yea, yea, yea, yea, yea, yea, yea, yea, yea, yea...
The recorder, yes the recorder: it doesn’t need to be!
Do as they do in Hawaii with the shells they find in the sea!
For tiredness is not physical, though your body reels with stress;
The answer is inside us, in our inner GPS!’
The prince strode forth with perfect poise,
His soul in quietness within the noise,
With interest on his left side, enthusiasm on his right,
And in between, the curriculum, weaving in darkness and light.
‘Speak louder! We can’t hear you,‘ the queen’s voice shook the hall,