“I want to grow a beanstalk!” A tearful Jack screamed.
His mother told him to do his chores,
And put away the beans.
She stifled and bullied and buried his dreams!
So he stifled and bullied and buried the beans.
And up rose a vine, what more could he see,
Than the giant running, chasing him,
Giant harps are not free!
But in a world away, no giant could feel
Because in worlds so strange no real giant is real
So Jack stored up his winnings and planned for the day
That he could plant enough beanstalks so his mother would pay
Not in beans this time but in praise and compassion
He lit up such beanstalks until it was fashion
He clambered onto gold streets
And bet on a bean
And then all his hopes and all of his dreams
Grew up like a shoot, like a star in the sky
And he let out a yelp and a too content sigh
And he raced back home to his mother in bed
And he told her, his pride like a crown on his head,
That his beanstalk was finished! He had sold all the shares,
And she told him, now dying
The broom’s under the stairs.