Disclaimers: Enna and the Glus are Emily Rodda's sadly.
Little Enna
Enna was a child of four or five, At the beginning of her short-lived life,
A rock lay on the damp sea shore, And when Enna saw this, her heart did soar.
Blues and greens on store did dart, And as she held it, it split apart.
And wriggle, wriggle the spawn inside, "A sweet sea worm!" little Enna cried.
Her mother was horrified at what Enna had seized, This old woman wasn't the least bit pleased.
She thought and thought and scratched her head, "Throw it back, little Enna," she finally said.
"No! Let me keep it! I must! I must! I have already named it! See? The Glus!"
"Throw it back, my dear," her mother chimed. "And make it quick; Dinner time!"
Enna replied, "Where ever it is, I must be." With that, she cast herself into the sea.
And since that day long years have flown, But still beneath the seething foam,
Where Enna sleeps, The worm creeps,
It waits in its maze, all alone, Spinning its web of bone white stone.
Little Enna
Enna was a child of four or five, At the beginning of her short-lived life,
A rock lay on the damp sea shore, And when Enna saw this, her heart did soar.
Blues and greens on store did dart, And as she held it, it split apart.
And wriggle, wriggle the spawn inside, "A sweet sea worm!" little Enna cried.
Her mother was horrified at what Enna had seized, This old woman wasn't the least bit pleased.
She thought and thought and scratched her head, "Throw it back, little Enna," she finally said.
"No! Let me keep it! I must! I must! I have already named it! See? The Glus!"
"Throw it back, my dear," her mother chimed. "And make it quick; Dinner time!"
Enna replied, "Where ever it is, I must be." With that, she cast herself into the sea.
And since that day long years have flown, But still beneath the seething foam,
Where Enna sleeps, The worm creeps,
It waits in its maze, all alone, Spinning its web of bone white stone.