Their song rang through the meadow all night long that first night they played. It was the meadow's serenade. The strings sang sweetly. The guitar hummed neatly, and the trumpet stole the show completely.
And all the while, their froggy legs were atapping. Their froggy hips swayed. And between each song they played you would hear the meadower's softly clapping, their shimmering wings flapping with glee.
Had you been there that night, I'm sure you'd agree, that so lovely was their music, it made the fireflies bob in their flight. It made the owl nod to the rhythm, and the dragon flies danced as they dipped over the water.
So sweet was their chorus, and so enthusiastic their tune, that, if you had looked up into the sky, you'd have seen a smile even on the face of the moon.
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