By Oliver Herford
Under a toadstool crept a wee Elf,
Out of the rain, to shelter himself.
Under the toadstool sound asleep,
Sat a big Dormouse all in a heap.
Trembled the wee Elf, frightened, and yet
Fearing to fly away lest he get wet.
To the next shelter-maybe a mile!
Sudden the wee Elf smiled a wee smile.
Tugged till the toadstool toppled in two.
Holding it over him, gayly he flew.
Soon he was safe home, dry as could be.
Soon woke the Dormouse-"Good gracious me!"
"Where is my toadstool?" loud he lamented,
And that's how umbrellas first were invented.
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