Album: Are You My Neighbor?

The Tale Of Flibber-o-loo

The tale of Flibber-o-loo
The sun always shone on the mountains of Fibble
The wind and the rain never came
To call the place beautiful no one would quibble.
Though hard on the feet they’d explain.
But high in those hills, past the rocks and the rubble,
So high that the clouds were below,
Were two tiny towns that were nothing but trouble.
As you listen you’ll see that it’s so.
The town to the west, that thought it was best,
Bore the name Flibber-o-loo.
Where the women and men, since seventeen-ten,
Have worn on their heads one big shoe.
Now in town number two, one big shoe wouldn’t do.
So the people of Jibberdy-lot,
Would look down and below at shoe headed fellows,
And place on their own head a pot.
For days without end these two neighbors would bicker,
As to whose headdress was best,
And the shoes and the pots would fly ever thicker
From morning to night without rest.
But not all the people who lived in these cities
Were angry and bitter and vile,
A few would write poems and sing happy ditties.
And greet all their friends with a smile.
One flibbian fellow who hated a fight, tried hard not to act like a monster.
While pots crashed around him from morning to night,
He’d just play with his pet wind up lobster.
They kept to themselves and they’d talk and they’d talk,
Till one day he said, “Hey let’s go for a walk.
I’m tired of laying around like a squid, I want to get out there.�
So that’s what he did.
The shoe headed boy and his blue plastic friend,
Walked out of the town and began to descend,
To the dark rocky valley between the two cities
Away from his friends and their light-hearted ditties.
“Hey this is swell.� He said, “Gosh this is fun.
It’s great that my lobster can get out and run.�
But neither the toy nor the boy with the shoe,
Could see the disaster about to ensue.
For up in the rocks, hidden just out of sight,
Were six beady eyes filled with anger and spite.
Six beady eyes watched our hero meander,
Two shifty crooks, and their ruthless commander.
“Oh look what good fortune.� The nasty one said,
“Here comes a poor fool with a shoe on his head.�
“I bet he’s got money. I bet he’s got gold.
Our maybe some jewelry he’d like us to hold.�
“Whatever the booty I think I can stand it,
Why that’s what I live for. That’s why I’m a bandit.�
And then they attacked him from under their rock.
First they knocked off his shoe, then they knocked of his sock.
And what they did next was extremely unfunny.
They shook him so hard that he dropped his milk money.
“hey.� He protested. “I don’t like you ilk.
How will I grow strong if I don’t drink my milk?�
But they didn’t care. They’d accomplished their goal,
So they put our friend down, stuck his head in a hole.
Then they walked off with his money, every last nickel,
And yelled back as they left, “see ya ‘round silly pickle.�
“Um, um, I’m a cucumber.�
Then he said with a moan, “well, I guess I’m alone.�
But this was a loneliness he’d never known.
His friends were far off and his lobster was missing.
The sound he could hear was just the wind. Hissing.
Things looked pretty grim for our flibbian buddy,
His head in a hole and his shoe bent and muddy,
But wait. Were those footsteps? Oh could it be true?
Why here came the mayor of Flibber-o-loo.
Of anyone surely he’d help the poor soul,
“Hello,� said the boy with his head in a hole.
“I seem to have fallen. I seem to be stuck.
But now that you’re here, well, I guess I’m in luck.�
“Oh dear.� Said the mayor observing the shoe,
“a fellow in need and he’s flibbian too.
Young man I have seen your dire situation
And please rest assured I share your frustration.
But how shall I put this, oh what shall I say?
Maybe you’ll understand better this way. [Song.]
As soon as the mayor had finished his song,
A flibbian doctor came strolling along.
“Out of my way.� She said starting to slid,
“If you and your pickle would please step aside.
I’m very important I can’t stand and chat,�
“Why that’s not my pickle I found him like that.
Besides I am noteworthy too. Why, I am the mayor of Flibber-o-loo.�
“Um, um, I’m a cucumber.�
“I see,� said the doctor, “than you understand,
That without an appointment I can’t lend a hand.
There are folks with bronchitis. There are kids with the flue.
If I’m not mistaken you’re quite busy too.�
She said to the mayor of Flibber-o-loo.
So they talked about schedules, compared daily planners
Until a voice said, “please pardon my manners,
I don’t mean to bug you; I see that you’re busy,
But being inverted has made me quite dizzy.�
The two other flibbians paused for a while,
Then looked at each other and said with a smile, [song.]
Why that was just dreadful.
How could they desert
Their flibbian friend with his head in the dirt?
“That’s it then. I’m finished. I’ll die here down under.
If they would not help me than who would?� he wondered.
But wait. Someone else on the road over head.
Would they help a friend, beaten up left for dead?
Oh look. On his head he is wearing a pot.
Why this little fellow’s from Jibberdy-lot.
Would he help a flibbian? Certainly not.
The boy with the pot saw our friend with the shoe.
“Oh look.� He exclaimed. “He’s from Flibber-o-loo.
They think we’re garbage. They pelt us with shoes.
Why should I care if he’s beaten and bruised?
But here in the wild his chances are slim.
If I were in need would I want help from him?
He looked at our friend and he looked at the shoe,
And then in his heart, he knew what to do.
“He may be flibbian, that’s plain to see,
But god made him special. Just like he made me.�
So he got him unstuck and he picked up his shoe
And together they walked back to Flibber-o-loo.
Out of the valley and into the town,
Where he stayed by his side till the doctor was found.
“Oh my.� Said the doctor. “He’s wearing a pot.
Why this little guy is from Jibberdy-lot.
You helped this fellow? You pulled him through it?
I don’t under stand. Tell me why did you do it? [Song.]
Then the boy with the pot gave the doctor some money
To pay for the cucumbers bill,
And the mayor said with his eyes moist and runny,
“I’m touched by his act of good will.
If this little guy can take care of his brother,
When he lives in one town and he in another,
Why can’t we all try to help one another?
And love will surround our fair hill.�
Now if you visit the mountains of Fibble,
You won’t see a shoe or a pot.
Instead they throw flowers and candy to nibble.
I think that you’d like it a lot.