The title says 'Pinocchio' so who's this wooden freak?
So skinny, so unfortunate, so drab and so antique?
You'll say this is an imposter, for, like everyone, you've seen
The real 'live' Hollywood character up on the silver screen!
But this is, indeed Pinocchio, the little wooden man!
This is him in Italy at the time his life began.
Carlo Collodi thought him up in 1861;
He invented a puppet who could laugh and talk and run.
But he didn't think much of him; the publisher was told
'This is a bit of nonsense that really leaves me cold.
Do what you like with this story; you can even throw it out!'
A pretty poor beginning for a hero, there's no doubt.
It was taken-on as a series, but Carl felt such apathy
That he killed the puppet off at the end of series three.
Pinnochio was murdered by the evil dog and cat
And Collodi washed hs hands of him, thinking that was that!
But no! The children of Italy were completely horrified
To think their latest hero had deserted them and died!
So he had to rewrite the ending, making Pinocchio survive!
And when the ending finally came he was still alive!
When a book was published it became a big success,
Even though, initially, it had been something less!
As soon as Collodi died, of course, Walt Disney grabbed the rights.
As we say 'The rest is history' ! Pinocchio scaled the heights!
The Disney cartoon was a classic, and Collodi was forgotten,
Which I know is the way that the world works but I think it was rather rotten.
What's that you say? You feel cheated! Come on! Give me a break!
All right! All right! Here's the one you want to see!
FOR GOODNESS SAKE!
Always shown in gleaming sunshine, brilliant white against the blue,
On the ferry, off to Manly, I got quite a different view.
Rain came sheeting down the window as the icon floated past.
Full-on rain, much more dramatic than the merely overcast.
A day of simple grey, I'm certain, would have lacked the bright pizazz
That an Opera House that's weeping , still majestic, surely has.
How that shaft of wandering sunshine, which will soon be banished too,
Lights a sail before it glides off into the far-retreating blue.
And I know for sure tomorrow, washed and polished, bright and clean,
The icon will be back to normal, glorying in the summer scene.