There once was an oyster whose story I tell, Who found that some sand had got into his shell. It was only a grain, but it gave him great pain For oysters have feelings although they're so plain.
Now, did he berate the harsh workings of fate that brought him to such a deplorable state? Did he curse at the government, cry for election, And claim that the sea should have given him protection?
No- he said to himself as he lay on a shell, Since I cannot remove it I shall try to improve it. Now the years have rolled around, as the years always do. And he came to his ultimate destiny: stew.
And the small grain of sand that had bothered him so Was a beautiful pearl all richly aglow. Now the tale has a moral, for isn't it grand What an oyster can do with a morsel of sand? What couldn't we do if we'd only begin with some of the things that get under our skin?
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