The Dribs of Dribville are very drib indeed.
They don’t travel far from home, not in their wildest dreams.
Each morning they dress in their drib little clothes.
Each morning they blow their drib little nose.
They eat their drib porridge without any honey.
They look out the window- nope, not very sunny.
“Hooray!” they say. “No sun today!”
For Dribville is dribber when the sun goes away.
They pile in their Sadillacs and huffle to work.
“What a drib day ahead of us without any quirks!”
So they start the day with drib in their hearts,
A day as flavorful as a tofu tart.

On this day in Dribville the wind blows strong.
Dribs wearing hats don’t wear them for long.
With a gust and swoosh, it blows hats away.
Many Dribs are left hatless and don’t know what to say.
The wind blows and blows the whole day long,
The poor Dribs are busy singing a goodbye-hat song.
So busy they don’t notice what the wind carried in:
An unusual seed falls in the Drib Garden.

The seed is special and rare and has long blorange hair.
It has blown from the land of Farawhere.
It can grow very fast, it can grow very big,
It is called a Thingomobobomogig.
The Thingomobobomogig can do something grand,
Something unheard of in all the Drib land.
It buries down deep in the soil of Drib Garden
And begins to grow without begging their pardon.

The Dribs all recover from the windy afternoon
And return home for a dinner to be eaten with spoons.
Honeyless porridge after a sunnyless day,
“What could be dribber?”, all the Dribs say.
They take their drib showers and brush their drib teeth,
Scrubbling and bubbling up, down, underneath.
Drib mamas and papas tuck in their Drib kids.
They huff and then puff and then close their eyelids.
Jimmy Drib dreams of a new Sadillac,
Sally Drib dreams of finding her hat,
And the Mayor of Dribville dreams of no less than that.
But not a Drib in Dribville could dream a dream as wild
As a Thingomobobomogig growing up all this while.

When Dribville awakes, they sigh with dismay,
“Oh dear, it’s going to be sunny today!”
The Dribs continue their morning with less drib in the hearts,
But no one’s less dribby than the mayor named Bogart.
Mayor Bogart Drib lives in the center of Dribville.
His very drib house is on a very high hill.
But listen, you’re missing the point, don’t you see?
The mayor’s backyard is Drib Garden indeed! 
He looks out his window but can’t see very far,
For an unusual tree has filled his drib yard.
The seed grew that night into a fantabulous tree,
A tree of many colors and altogether spiffy.
This tree, you see is stranger than ever
For instead of petals its flowers have feathers!
Flowers, oh my, they aren’t flowers at all,
They are queer little bumblebirds with a beautiful call.
The branches are loaded with the colorful birds.
Swooshing and swishing, they’re flying off in herds.

The drib streets of Dribville rang with the song of the things,
A song so melodiful and carried by wings.
Dribs everywhere are losing their drib.
One look at the bumblebirds and of drib they were rid!
Mayor Bogart, well he is all in flanic,
A manicky, panicky, dribless flanic!
He steps out on his porch and stares at the sight,
But before he knows it he takes off into flight!
A bumblebird here and a bumblebird there,
They are lifting the mayor up into the air!
He is flying, my goodness, up, up and away,
He looks down at Dribville all chaotic and gray.
But not all of it’s gray- it’s a colorful display!
For the bumblebirds are fluttering every which way.
With each passing moment more Dribs are flying
And less Dribs are crying,
More Dribs are less dribby
And less Dribs are more dribby. 
By now not a Drib is down on the ground,
For all of the Dribs are flying around.
The dribbiness of Dribville is a thing of yesterday,
When you’re flying with bumblebirds it’s bound to end this way.

Well what happened after that, you might say.
Did the Dribs stay happy for the rest of their days?
Did the bumblebirds stay in the town of Dribville,
Singing, flying and taking Dribs overhill?
Why, yes of course! That’s what bumblebirds do!
They help out dribby people like me and like you.
Maybe you’re not too dribby and maybe you are,
But I’m sure you’ve been dribby at times, think back far.

We’ve all had dribby times, we’ve all had dribby days,
But in all your moments of drib, drab, and drub, it’s okay.
Because one thing to you all dribs would driblessly say:
“Just remember a bumblebird is coming your way!”