T’was but a Puddle





“It’s but a puddle, a muddy mud puddle!”


Helga moaned in grief.


The other three, her greatest friends,


Stared in disbelief.





At the puddle, the muddy mud puddle,


Tarnishing the scene,


Of a half-built castle grand and


Grounds like in a dream.





“A silly puddle, a muddy mud puddle,


Simply cannot do,


How will students row into school,


Without a large lake blue?”





The vile puddle, the muddy mud puddle,


Remained insolently,


As the four friends and founders watched,


Puzzling thoughtfully.





“Let’s hide the puddle, the muddy mud puddle,


With an illusion fair,”


Said Rowena, “the boats can fly over,


Soaring through the air!”





“As for the puddle, the muddy mud puddle,


None need know it’s there!”


The other three hmm-ed and ah-ed,


Not saved from their despair.





“We could keep the puddle, the muddy mud puddle.”


Said Godric, a suggestion to make,


“And shrink the students and boats,


So to them it is a lake.”





“Though I guess the puddle, the muddy mud puddle,


Wouldn’t be a lake most regal…”


Added Rowena with a sigh,


“And I think that is illegal.”





They stared at the puddle, the muddy mud puddle,


Thinking very hard,


And nobody spoke, with no idea


How to cure their surroundings marred.





Until…





“The puddle!” cried Salazar, “the muddy mud puddle,


Needn’t stay so small!


We’ve been thinking of answers magic,


But that’s not right at all!





“The puddle!” he yelled, “the muddy mud puddle,


Can be changed by muggle means!


With some big digging and carrying,


Ingenious muggle machines!”





They left the puddle, the muddy mud puddle,


To zoom forward in time,


And borrow some bulldozers, cranes,


And Earth-movers sublime.





‘This mud puddle, this muddy mud puddle,


Won’t know what hit it,’


Thought each of the four founders as they,


Inspected the construction kit.





Soon, the puddle, the muddy mud puddle,


Was not a mud puddle no more,


But a whopping great hole in the ground,


All that was needed was water to pour.





“It will never be a puddle, a muddy mud puddle,


Never, ever again,”


Said Salazar, satisfied, admiring


The lake as it began to rain.





So far from a puddle, a muddy mud puddle,


Was the sight that met their eyes.


A large, black lake, with calm ripples,


The origin of which would surprise.





From the puddle, the muddy mud puddle,


This memorable feature did form,


The giant squid moving in soon after,


Having fallen from the sky in a storm.





And across that puddle, that muddy mud puddle,


Students were to row,


In their first year, to get to school,


In sun, in rain or in snow.





That one little puddle, that muddy mud puddle,


Saw the happenings over the years.


Sharing with students, generation after next,


Their laughter, thoughts and tears.





Though that puddle, that muddy mud puddle,


Started as something so small,


So insignificant in the scheme of things,


It had a great destiny after all.





The End