Mr. Wonderbug

In a house set back from the road
among trees, deep in the woods
he dwells, only to live, not to bother
with the rest of the world.
Mister Wonderbug doesn\'t struggle to survive.

He grew up here, learning to live.
His friends don\'t visit anymore
because he tells them to go away.
Mister Wonderbug seems happier alone.

He writes long, lonely letters
but he never mails them
though he does lick the envelopes.
Mister Wonderbug never signs his name.

He could have been a doctor
but he never went to school
so he talks about the birds.
Mister Wonderbug listens very well.

He\'s one in a million, they say
but this time Mister Wonderbug doesn\'t hear.
I\'ll bet a million to one
Mister Wonderbug would agree.

*(Please don\'t ask what induced state prompted this! I wrote this after seeing Jethro Tull in concert at the Royal Albert Hall in London many years ago. I must have believed Aqualung needed a sequel.)