[Intro] Come gather close and hear the tale Of a frog both green and small, Who dreamed that he would be a bard And play for one and all. [Verse 1] Filbert lived beside a pond Beneath an old oak tree, He made a lute from walnut shell And strings of spider's skein. He practiced every afternoon, He practiced every night, His little froggy fingers learned To pluck the notes just right. But when he opened up his mouth To sing his favourite song— CROOOOOAK! ...Something had gone wrong. [Verse 2] The bluebirds twittered, "Goodness me!" The squirrels laughed aloud, The rabbits stuffed their little ears And vanished through the crowd. "You're much too croaky for a bard!" The nightingale declared. Poor Filbert tucked his lute away And wished he'd never dared. [Pre-Chorus] He packed away his feathered hat, His songs went on the shelf, "If that's what proper singing is... I'll never be myself." [Chorus] Oh, Filbert, Filbert, don't you know? There's more than one way songs can go. Some voices soar and some sing sweet— And some go CROAK upon the beat. So plink-plank-plunk your little strings, A song belongs to him who sings. Though Filbert didn't know it yet... They hadn't heard his best one yet. [Lute Solo] [Verse 3] Then one fine day three bards came by With instruments and flair, A tiger dressed magnificently, A red-haired man with flowing hair, A dwarf with beard of fiery red— Lutes & Roses, passing through— When Cat stopped dead beside the pond. "Hold on. What was that?" Filbert peeked above a leaf. "...What?" "That noise." Filbert swallowed hard. "...My singing?" "Do it again." CROOOOOAK! "...Ohhhh." [Verse 4] Christian cried, "That voice has GRIT!" And Raylen yelled, "He's got it!" Cat scooped Filbert from the pond— "We're keeping him." And that was that. They found his little feathered hat, They tuned his walnut lute, They put him on a wooden box And bought a tiny suit. They practiced underneath the moon Until the break of day, And every time poor Filbert croaked— AGAIN! [Chorus] Oh, Filbert, Filbert, now you know! There's more than one way songs can go! Christian soars and Cat can preen, But nobody croaks like Filbert green! So plink-plank-plunk your little strings, Show the world how Filbert sings! You've got a sound that's yours alone— CROAK! CROAK! Make that bloody sound your own! [Bridge] The night arrived. The lanterns burned. The woodland filled the glade. Every beast who'd laughed before Had come to see him play. The bluebirds perched upon the trees, The rabbits filled the rows, The nightingale sat smugly there— [Spoken - Cat] "Watch this." Filbert climbed his little box, His knees began to shake. He looked at Cat. Cat gave a nod. Filbert drew a breath... CROOOOOOOOOOOOOAK! [Final Chorus] CROAK! CROAK! FILBERT FROG! Sing it from the old oak log! PLINK! PLANK! STRUM AWAY! Filbert stole the show today! The squirrels screamed! The rabbits danced! The nightingale looked quite entranced! The tadpoles bounced! The bluebirds cried! FILBERT! FILBERT! CROOOOOAK! [Backing vocals] THAT'S OUR GUY! [Final Chorus] Oh, Filbert, Filbert, now they know! There's more than one way songs can go! Some voices soar and some sing sweet— And Filbert makes the whole pond leap! So plink-plank-plunk those little strings, The greatest bard has froggy wings— [Victory Verse] Now Filbert tours from pond to pond, His name upon the bill, And crowds arrive from miles around To hear him croak his fill. He's got a hat, he's got a lute, A dressing room backstage... And seventeen adoring frogs All waiting by the stage. Ladies. Good lad. Croak.
