It's lit by lots of glow-worms; if I'm wrong correct me please.
The village is a pop-up book, the people wooden dolls.
The roads are made of treacle things, it's time that I moved on.
My home is half a walnut shell, the journey will be long
So I filled the whole with peppermints and creamy pink blanc-mange.
I sailed away for fifteen days, it never once got dark
And came upon two large houses set out in a park.
On the door of one was truth, on the other door was lies.
Which one should I enter thru? I really must decide
The door of lies had lots of flowers growing round outside
But looking close I noticed it was crumbling inside
The door of truth was very plain, but stood up very strong,
And when I entered thru its door I knew I wasn't wrong.
