A turtle’s a turtle, wherever they be,
They cannot be oysters, quite obviously,
And figs can’t be boondocks or books on a tree,
Or fat water pumpkins, I hope you’ll agree.
If I am a racquet and you are a ball,
Then I have a handle, and you? Not at all,
But still we’re both round in a circular way,
Like morning and evening are part of the day.
If I had a hamburger filled with desire
And you took some mustard and spread it on higher,
That might have been perfect with Peter or John,
But I like my burger with marmalade on.
So we can be different, in similar vain,
Like peas in a salad, or rainbows and rain,
And therefore be grateful for what we have got,
And love one another, despite what we’re not.