• The deer runs across the prarie,
    So fast and delicate,
    Like a flying fairy.

    A fairy which she cannot fly,
    since it's a deer,
    so you know why.

    Notice its spots,
    painted on its back,
    And it has lots,
    which makes him easy to track.

    If it could fly,
    how high would it go?
    And what would you do,
    for you to know?

    It finds the perfect spot,
    to stop and eat the green grass.
    It's quite hungry,
    You can tell by its mass.

    It notices others,
    and stops to look.
    the others come close,
    and taste what it took.

    The other deer run,
    and the "fairy" deer, too.
    I think to myself,
    "Oh, how I wish I was you..."