Tweeps are the cousins of fraggles
Nowhere near as famous as them tho.
They live up in the Marjowy twees
High above the jungle flo.’
At dawn, these tweeps, arise from the bower
And gather the dew drops, from every single tweetop flower.
With verve and vigor, they whistle with all their power
Except for Milwhup, whose shower made them cower.
At midmorning they hide
Beneath the Marjowy’s shade
Telling all the old knock-knock jokes
Until the sunlight starts to fade.
And then do these tweeps, start thumping a beat
In a staccato pattern, with their restless feet.
And the afternoon would fly, all swiftly and fleet
To the pulsing rhythm, both ragged and neat.
As night falls , and the skushno bird calls
One by one they nod off, every last tweep.
Until all that can be heard are the jungle falls
And the lonely tweeps, singing themselves to sleep.