My sweet little dandelion,
With a mane of golden-brown,
You tilt your head, and with a roar,
You bring a beetle down.

My sweet little dandelion,
On a pedestal of green,
Oh how I wish that I could see,
The things that you have seen.

My sweet little dandelion,
King of all the grass,
You still stand tall, but wonder
If your time has come to pass.

My sweet little dandelion,
Your cheeks are turning pale,
You keep your kingly stature,
Though your roar is getting frail.

My sweet little dandelion,
Your white maidens mourn your death,
But I will make them dance again,
With one little helpful breath.

 
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