can thee readeth mine own mind?
doth thee knoweth what t is thee doth to me?
knoweth not who is’t thou art
just a cousin from anoth’r star
h’re i am liketh a peat at a school
holding hands with a god, i’m a daw
shall thee behold at me quiv’ring liketh a dram wench shiv’ring?
thee can seeth right through me
can thee readeth mine own mind?
can thee picture the things i’m bethinking of?
wond’ring wherefore thou art
all the wond’rful things thou art
thee can flyeth, thee belongeth to the sky
thee and i couldst belongeth to each oth’r
if 't be true thee needeth a dear friend, i’m the one to flyeth to
if 't be true thee needeth to beest did love
h’re i am, readeth mine own mind