About a distant land
Where lived a boy, hair white as snow
His name was Merriland.
The town he lived in was a bore
The train passed only twice;
The people there were very old
And didn't seem so nice.
Their eyes were green as emerald
They shined so bright at night;
Though many of them were just bald
No one had hair so bright.
Poor little boy named Merriland
He saw them stare and stare,
He bought a hat from a small band
The price of a train's fare.
He blended in without a sweat
He had turned into glass
And on the streets, brunette, brunette
"I think, produced in mass!"