Somewhere past
the wrinkled maps,
and under another sun,

where favourite earrings find new ears
and missing marbles run,

the hillsides made
their marvellous shapes
for a town called Covington --

And a great pink factory
as long as the breeze
weighed truckfuls
and truckfuls
of bubblegum.

Often times,
when the weather was fine,
the town
gathered down
at the gates.

The workers came out,
and "Bubbles!" they'd shout,
as they opened the bubblegum crates.

"Fine bubbles!" they'd announce
as the bubblegum bounced
and floated to greet the sun.

"A great day for bubbles!" they'd declare
as they bubbled their cares.
"A great day for everyone!"

Well, almost everyone.
There was one citizen who didn't have fun

AT ALL.

No matter how she moved
in her bubblegum shoes,
Olive Bezzlebee, 
from that town by the sea,
couldn't blow a single bubble.

NOT ONE.