Magic Forest

In Secret Woods, where shadows play, And sunbeams dance the livelong day, Lived Barnaby, a dwarf so small, Whose greatest wish was gold for all!

"I'll make some gold!" he cried with glee, Beneath a whispering willow tree. His beard, like moss, upon his chest, He started on his golden quest.

He mixed up dew with moonbeam bright, And pixie dust in pale starlight. He stirred it with a twig of pine, A golden shimmer did entwine!

He chanted spells in voices low, As fireflies began to glow. He hammered stones with tiny might, Transforming pebbles into light!

He puffed and sweated, worked with zeal, His tiny hammer's mighty squeal. He dug and sifted, day and night, 'Til everything was golden bright!

His little home, now overflowing, With gold that kept on growing, growing! No longer pebbles, dull and gray, Just gleaming gold to light the way!

Barnaby cheered, "I did it, see! The Secret Woods are full of glee!" His dream fulfilled, his heart alight, The Secret Woods, a golden sight!