The Lullaby in the Hullabaloo, or: The Hullabalullaby

“‘Christmastime with Mister Rogers’ is a quiet show. It is a kind of lullaby, dropped in the middle of the hullabaloo.”
— Bangor Daily News, December 16, 1977

When a hullabaloo
is your worst bugaboo
and bamboo is tickling your nose,
and the kangaroo bites
while the cockatoo lights
up a barbecue under your toes,

that’s when Lorelei’s lullaby
lilts to us lovingly,
lulling all passersby longing to snore,
where wallabies wallow
in all-hallowed hollows,
and the butterflies follow to sleep on the shore.

So play peekaboo
in the rannygazoo,
but then sing to those lumbering pests
of the horrible apple pie
hullabalullaby
that brings us a slumbering rest.

The Sloth's Lullaby

Good


night


little—


oh.



Where


did


the night


go?

The Honeybee's Lullaby

Hush, little honeybee, fold your little wings,
And dream of flowers yellow bright, and other petaled things.
There’s honey in the hexagons and pollen in the pot,
And you shall rest among the riches all your folk have brought.

Quiet, little honeybee, still, and listen well
To the thrumming rustling murmurs that surround your little cell.
Hear now in their whispering your kindred’s constant theme:
A hum of adoration, for one day you’ll be queen.