Rhythm is in the heart of man, We play with it from when we’re young; It lays down roots and helps us plan, Bunga bung
The great tits will work hard to find a mate, Putting their partners needs before their own, And science hoped to quantify this trait, To
A letter from a German god, Did bring new players to the game; Their moral thoughts we now think odd, And nothing now would be
The fifth of November we can’t forget, As colourful explosions light the sky; But rocket residue can cause a threat, Especially if humidity is high.
That dark patch of water looks cool, A perfect spot to just kick back. Why is that rock starting to drool? Please help me I’m
A Rhode Island pond – The beaver tastes the cold air As he builds his dam Now somewhere upstream On a vast and dying
The nightshade is a plant locked in a war, They keep their pollen under lock and key From pollen thieves who try to hit their
As cancer leaves us in the dark where is the light? We need some way to track new drugs as they embark In vivo through
Antarctic sea shelves are diverse, With worms and seastars worth acclaim; Conditions are not too adverse, The sea life is never the same. But
You reflect happily on times gone by, On parents that raised you the best they could. Her early life was damaged; you won’t pry.