The Little Green Spider Thistle & The Misty-Eyed Waterfall King

Once upon a time, was a tiny prickly thistle,
solemn though spritely green,
with a catchy step in her t'whistle.

Grew she upon a gushing tide edge,
'neath a grandiose fall,
who thought himself so far beyond that of it all.

He boasted majesty over those
who lived upon his watery shoals.

It was by his pleasure, as bound to his moisture,
were they that would of it thrive merrily.

Or desperately, not, despite their own goals.

But a thistle has irritating habits,
once determining, the breadth of her scourge,
given whom then regret their infermining.

The spider thistle has nettles,
the poisonous siblings of spines,
and scalding tendrils, sending fire, into the ones it maligns.

Thus, a waterfall's thunder's,
abnormally shrill when it whines.

Hence the wistful thistleful spiderly drank,
her anemone roots verily dancing,
as they she tunefully sank,
whilst content under the Sun,
and to the waterfall croonfully singing...

"Though I am pretty and tiny, know forthwith,
my branches and cortex are banefully spiny.
Fix on my gorgeous, red dew-covered flowers.
Aren't they most woefully and shewfully shiny?".