In a stately home, there once lived a porcelain miss,
On a grand drawing room shelf, she sat in pure bliss.
Every morning, folks would greet her with cheer,
“Good morning, fine lady, you’re ever so dear!”

But one fateful day, a new footman quite bold,
Put her in a wooden box, with hay, so we’re told.
Off to Southwest Londontown, they said she’d be bound,
But the carriage gave a jolt, and her world spun around.

The box tumbled out, on a cobbled roadside she flew,
Thrown against a tree, she chipped and she knew,
This wasn’t her home, she was far from her stand,
In the Five Lions at Kew, in a woodland so grand.

A little hazel dormouse, with a friendly hello,
Told her, “You’re in Kew Gardens, just so you know.”
She looked up, saw the five giants so tall,
Ginkgo, pagoda, plane, locust, and elm enthrall.

She was thirsty and tired, her spirits quite low,
The hazel dormouse offered a dewdrop to show.
Then, he led her to a burrow, his old chum, Badger’s home,
But her rigid porcelain limbs were too fragile to roam.

So, the little hazel dormouse took her by the hand,
Led her to a tree trunk with a door carved so grand.
With the woodpecker’s help, they crafted her a place,
Where the little lady found home and friendship’s embrace.

In the heart of the forest, with kind animals all around,
She had a comfortable home, and a wood full of sound.
The next day they all ventured to a palace nearby,
A picnic with nuts, berries, and grubs under the sky.

She felt self-conscious with her chip and her glaze,
But her friends said, “In Kew, we celebrate in all ways.
Here, beauty is found in whatever form it arrives,
You’re perfect as you are, and that’s no surprise.”

Past redwood trees and oaks mighty and grand,
They strolled hand in hand in a flowered land.
To the Great Pagoda and the Palm House so tall,
To a lawn near the Palace walls, where they’d all sprawl.

They shared bramble berries, and currant tea sweet,
In the warm, golden sunshine, their hearts skipped a beat.
The little porcelain lady, though chipped and quite small,
Was the most cherished among friends, one and all.

Now she presides over Kew each bright, sunny day,
Advising the gardeners in her most gentle way.
She retires to her hollow when the visitors depart,
Singing to flower bulbs and filling every heart.

So, if you visit Kew Gardens, with nature’s embrace,
Keep an eye out for her work in this tranquil space.
The blooms and the trees, she has kindly nursed,
For the little porcelain lady, tenderness is her verse.