There once was an oyster whose story I tell, who found that some sand had got into his shell.

It was only a grain, but it gave him great pain, for oysters have feelings although they're so plain.

Now, did he berate the harsh workings of fate that brought him to such a deplorable state? Did he curse at the government, cry for election, and claim that the sea should have given him protection?

No - he said to himself as he lay on a shell, since I cannot remove it I shall try to improve it.

Now the years have rolled around, as the years always do. and he came to his ultimate destiny, a stew.

And the small grain of sand that had bothered him so, was a beautiful pearl all richly aglow.

Now the tale has a moral, for isn't it grand what an oyster can do with a morsel of sand?

What couldn't we do if we'd only begin, with some of the things that get under our skin?

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