Bobby Bunting

Long ago, far away on my holiday,
I found a stone as smooth as could be,
And from that day on it has stayed with me.
Bobby Bunting is its name, there's no other rock is quite the same.

It lives on my shelf, beside my bed.
Calmly it waits for me to come. It knows there is no other one.
We play on the tramp, on my bike, and in my pocket
Bobby Bunting sits in my room, wishing I would come home soon.

My pet rock, could live in a sock,
But likes it best when he lays in my bed to rest.
There's so many rocks across our land, but none fit as well as this in my hand.
Bobby Bunting is his name, there's no other rock quite the same.