Plantains growing by the pathway,
Or the mushroom’s floppy cap,
Badger is the clever artist
Who can draw them just like that.
With my colours and my brushes,
Painting stories, painting wonders.
All my frames and canvass screens
Are so beautiful to see.
Chorus The whole world knows no better tool
To paint with than a badger brush.
Paint a sleepy fur about to fall
Or spiky pines that whisper ‘hush’.
I can even draw my dreams
That never have been seen.
Mouse and Squirrel, hurry quickly
Stoat, dear neighbour, come and see.
Make your way, there’s all you’ve dreamed of
In my picture gallery:
Landscapes, still lifes you will find there
All the creatures from the woods.
You too Hedgehog, even Hare,
See your portraits hanging there.
I will paint a sun that’s rising
Over ships that sail away,
And a dog upon the sofa,
And a jug with a bouquet,
And a cow down from the village,
And those trees whose branches shiver.
Actually ‘Badgers’ is the name
Of that village by the river.
