Caterpillar Capers!

©2004 David Harper & Marcia Trimble


On the first day of capers a voice sang from afar: you will turn into a star

One the second day of capers a voice sang from afar: hatch little egg, you will turn into a star

On the third day of capers a voice sang from afar, hatch little egg, eat your shell, you will turn into a star

On the forth day of capers a voice sang from afar: hatch little egg, eat your shell, munch milkweed leaves, you will turn into a star

On the fifth day of capers a voice sang from afar: eating machine.  Hatch little egg, eat your shell, munch milkweed leaves, you will turn into a star

On the sixth day of capers a voice sang from afar: it’s time for molting, eating machine.  Hatch little egg, eat your shell, munch milkweed leaves, you will turn into a star

On the seventh day of capers a voice sang from afar: wiggle from your old skin, it’s time for molting, eating machine.  Hatch little egg, eat your shell, munch milkweed leaves, you will turn into a star

On the eighth day of capers a voice sang from afar: hang from your stem now, wiggle from your old skin, it’s time for molting, eating machine.  Hatch little egg, eat your shell, munch milkweed leaves, you will turn into a star

On the ninth day of capers a voice sang from afar: Skin’s all a shriveling, hang from your stem now, wiggle from your old skin, it’s time for molting, eating machine.  Hatch little egg, eat your shell, munch milkweed leaves, you will turn into a star

On the tenth day of capers a voice sang from afar: pupa’s a hardening, dropped off your old skin, hanging from your stem now, wiggle and a squiggled, past time for molting, eating machine.  Hatch little egg, eat your shell, munch milkweed leaves, you will turn into a star

On the eleventh day of capers a voice sang from afar: chrysalis is a shimmering, pupa’s a hardening, dropped off your old skin, hanging and a shriveling, wiggling and squiggling, past time for molting, eating machine.  Hatch little egg, eat your shell, munch milkweed leaves, you will turn into a star

On the twelfth day of capers a voice sang from afar: free you’re-a-pulling chrysalis is a shimmering, pupa’s a hardening, drop off your old skin, hanging and shriveling, wiggling and a squiggling, past time for molting, eating machine.  Hatch little egg, ate your shell, munch milkweed leaves, you will turn into a star