must be true.

The water surrounding it shone a bright hue,
A magnificent color, like no other blue.

A sign made with vines held together by glue
Stood on the shore, reading "We Welcome You!"

The king had arranged for a great big to-do,
And the queen herself shouted the loudest "Woohoo!"

The Bum Bum Ba Lites gave us bowls of their stew
Which they made from the roots of the Great Bum Ba Doo.

The food could have fed seven hundred and two
At the feast on the Island of Bum Bum Ba Loo.

Our drinks were quite tasty, a tropical brew.
If you ask what was in them, I haven't a clue.

They served us desserts made with Bum Berry goo
As we danced to the tune of the didgeridoo.

We all thanked the King for the party he threw,
Of course, not forgetting to thank the Queen too.

From their palace they showed us the wonderful view,
And we saw all the fields where the Bum Berries grew.

As gifts, I gave both of them gumballs to chew.
When they asked me for more, I had only a few.

So we hopped on the ship where we kept a whole slew,
But it got carried off when the northern wind blew.

The island has since waited to be found anew
Till I pick someone worthy to give the map to.

And now I've decided to pass it to you
To discover the island of Bum Bum Ba Loo.

XXX

THE PARTICULAR WAY OF ODD MS. MCKAY

Say what you will or say what you may,
There's nobody else who is like Ms. McKay.

To all whom she passes, she gives a "Good Day!"
And she's ready with maps if you've gone astray.

Her hair may be orange with two streaks of gray.
Her purse may be made out of flowers and clay.

But her hugs have been known to go on for a day,
And she wakes up each morning with something to say.

She had her house built in a tree by the bay,
And she dangles a tire swing down every May.

She's famous for making a carrot soufflE.
She'll give you five boxes, but won't let you pay.

She only eats food when it's served on a tray,
And she cuts up her meals in a very odd way.

She owns her own pony who's known for his "neigh",
And when she's out riding, people stop and they pray.

She'd lend you her coat, with no sign of delay.
(She wove it from tree leaves and piles of hay.)

On Sundays she puts on her purple beret,
And never, not once, has she missed the ballet.

Her voice is quite bad, but she sings everyday.
If she's holding her trumpet, don't ask her to play!

I think she should meet you as soon as today,
And if