Brave as a postage stamp. He went his way, gently clapping his hands to count his footsteps. His heart as red as a wild boar, beat beat, like a butterfly, pink and green, from time to time he planted a little flag of silk, when he had marched enough. He sat down for a rest and fell asleep, but since that day there are lots of clouds in the sky. Lots of birds in the trees, and heaps of salt in the sea, there are lots of other things too.