Bradbury Heights

Danceling along down the way went little Missy May,
Skip-waltzing through fields of grass grown tall.

Sheer summer song of soul felt joy breaking free from its ice long slumber, t'was the dream of little Missy May to dance and sing. And as her heart leapt o'er stone and log her feet could scarcely keep time. Far down the path from Chapel Hill, through the light strung woods along sweet waters edge. A river running softly in the midst of gnarlsome tree of fir and flee, stray sprouts of greenage sparkling forth anew.


Danceling along down the way went little Missy May,
Trip-treading cross waters rushing by unfounded.

There so happ'ly spinning 'round t'was little Missy May, enchanted by the forest sound of bird and bee and flutterfly, so charmed was she there was no fear of harkling mischief near at hand. Fair sprite and free, yet none-too-soon, her dance was halted to a still. And there before our gypsum dove an eerie shadow stretched out long, all black as night it blocked the sun and curled up dread twixt heart and synapse of little Missy May. Afrighted she fled for the steepled hill, for safety surely proffered, yet Alack! Her legs could carry her not as swift as rabbits bound and the blight shade overcame her at last, and covered her with deepest darkness.

Danceling along down the way went little Missy May,
Drip-spilling life blood all o'er the forest ground...