The Oyster

There once was an oyster whose story I tell,
Who found that some sand had got into his shell.
It was only a grain, but it gave him great pain
For oysters have feelings although they're so plain.

Now, did he berate the harsh workings of fate
that brought him to such a deplorable state?
Did he curse at the government, cry for election,
And claim that the sea should have given him protection?

No- he said to himself as he lay on a shell,
Since I cannot remove it I shall try to improve it.
Now the years have rolled around, as the years always do.
And he came to his ultimate destiny: stew.

And the small grain of sand that had bothered him so
Was a beautiful pearl all richly aglow.
Now the tale has a moral, for isn't it grand
What an oyster can do with a morsel of sand?

What couldn't we do if we'd only begin
with some of the things that get under our skin?