In a land of ice, where the wind blows strong,
The Pencilquins march, with a low hum song.
“Low hum, low hum,” they sing as they go,
“Ding dong, ding dong,” through the frost and snow.
They’re searching high, and they’re searching low,
For musical tools that in cold winds blow.
They need the sounds of the purest tones,
To build a bridge that will lead them home.
“Low hum, low hum,” the beat goes on,
“Ding dong, ding dong,” from dawn to dawn.
With every step, and with every song,
They search the ice for the notes that belong.
They climbed a hill, in the frozen night,
Saw a gleam of gold, in the northern light.
A frosty flute, with a silver gleam,
Was trapped in ice, like a winter dream.
The Pencilquins chisel, and they chip away,
Till the flute is free and it starts to play.
“Ding dong, ding dong,” the flute joins in,
A new note plays in the icy wind.
“Low hum, low hum,” the beat goes on,
“Ding dong, ding dong,” from dawn to dawn.
With flute in hand, they march along,
To find more notes to build their song.
Through a cave of ice, they creep and crawl,
They hear a beat, like a gentle call.
A drum of snow, with a stone-cold rim,
Lies hidden deep, where the light is dim.
They tap the drum, with a steady hand,
And the rhythm flows like a marching band.
“Ding dong, ding dong,” it echoes clear,
The Pencilquins cheer, for their goal is near.
“Low hum, low hum,” the beat goes on,
“Ding dong, ding dong,” from dawn to dawn.
With flute and drum, they play their song,
And march through ice as the notes grow strong.
On a frozen lake, where the ice is thin,
They find the chimes with a crystal spin.
They ring with a sound, like the stars at night,
A sparkling tune in the frosty light.
The Pencilquins ring, and the chimes resound,
As the notes blend in, with a magic sound.
“Ding dong, ding dong,” the melody flies,
To the frozen peaks, and the starry skies.
“Low hum, low hum,” the beat goes on,
“Ding dong, ding dong,” from dawn to dawn.
With flute, drum, chimes, they sing along,
Their hearts grow warm, and their steps are strong.
On a mountain top, where the winds do howl,
They find an ice-harp, with a sound so foul.
Its strings are frozen, but its notes are pure,
They play the harp, and the chill’s no more.
The music flows, with a bright, clear tone,
And the ice begins to feel like home.
“Ding dong, ding dong,” the harp strings sing,
And the ice below starts glistening.
“Low hum, low hum,” the beat goes on,
“Ding dong, ding dong,” from dawn to dawn.
With flute, drum, chimes, and harp’s clear ring,
They feel the magic the instruments bring.
With a final note, and a joyful cheer,
A rainbow bridge begins to appear.
The colors shine, in the icy mist,
As the Pencilquins dance, they know they’ve been blessed.
They march across with a steady beat,
Their journey home is now complete.
“Ding dong, ding dong,” the bridge sings loud,
And the Pencilquins cheer, they are safe and proud.
“Low hum, low hum,” the beat goes on,
“Ding dong, ding dong,” their journey’s done.
They found the notes, they played their song,
And home they march, where they belong.
In an icy land, where the cold winds blow,
The Pencilquins found their way to go.
With flute and drum, and a chime’s clear tone,
They built a bridge to their paradise home.
“Low hum, low hum,” the beat goes on,
“Ding dong, ding dong,” their journey’s done.
They found the notes, they played their song,
And home they march, where they belong.
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