The Wundoria songs

Songs for going outside, and for remembering you were never separate from it.

Wundoria began with a simple, stubborn idea: that a child does not need to be taught to love the world, only introduced to it — and that most of us were introduced, once, and then slowly talked out of it. Eight story worlds carry that idea. These songs carry it too, in a shorter form, the way a song can.

They are written to be sung, hummed, half-remembered and got wrong. There are three. One is a promise, shouted in a garden. One is a lullaby for the end of the day. One is for the grown-ups standing at the door watching the children run out of it. Every word is set out in full below, along with what each song is actually for — because a song that asks a child to make a promise ought to be honest with the grown-up reading over their shoulder.

One

Mother Earth, We Promise You

The children's song

This is the whole of Wundoria in four verses. A child falls through a rainbow into the first world and meets Bunny Bright, who tells her something nobody had thought to mention: that she is a natural thing. Not a visitor to nature. Not a guest who must be careful on the grass. A part of it, in the same way the oak and the stream are part of it.

From there the song walks the worlds. The Ancient Tree teaches that rest is not laziness. Mother Earth takes a hand and names the rocks and leaves as kin. Sun Sparkle goes behind a cloud and is not gone. Dragon Delight, beside his waterfall, shows that tears are only water, flowing on — one of the kindest things anyone ever says to a crying child. The Phoenix gives fire back as joy rather than danger. Old Harry warms. Watching Squirrel sits still. Moon Smile keeps watch after the light goes.

Then comes the turn the song is built for. Having been held by every one of them, the child offers something back:

So I will hold the dark for you
The way that I've been shown

That is the whole moral engine of it. Care is not a lesson delivered downward; it is a thing you are given and then, quite naturally, pass on. By the bridge the child is standing barefoot in the dew making a promise of her own — small and sure, and entirely her own idea. And in the outro Mother Earth answers, which matters: a promise a child makes to the world is met, not merely accepted. She is not taking on a burden. She is joining something that was already holding her.

We wrote the chorus to be simple enough for a four-year-old to shout in a garden and true enough for a nine-year-old to mean.

Solo harp, a child's wordless hum, birdsong, one soft drum entering like a heartbeat.

Verse one · The Nature of Me

I found a rainbow, jumped right in
Landed somewhere warm and gold and free
Bunny Bright was dancing there
She said the spark inside was me
I am a natural thing, she said
Wild and open, whole and true
Now when I feel the morning sun
I know that I am something too

Verse two · The Ancient Tree & The Earth Is My Friend

I rested underneath the tree
Who's stood since time began to count the days
He sang me songs older than stars
And taught me rest is not a waste
Then Mother Earth, she took my hand
Said every rock and leaf and stone
The green that grows, the streams that run
Are part of me, I'm not alone

Chorus · children's choir

Mother Earth, we promise you
By the root and by the dew
We will keep the rivers clean
We will keep your green world green
By the oak and by the stone
You are ours, and we're your own
Mother Earth, we promise you
We will love you, all life through

Verse three · Sun Sparkle & the elements

Sun Sparkle hides behind a cloud
But she is never, ever gone
And Dragon Delight beside his fall
Showed me tears are only water flowing on
Phoenix taught me fire's my joy
The Wind People breathed with me, soft and slow
Old Harry warmed me by his fire
And Watching Squirrel taught me how to sit, and know

Verse four · My Heart Is a Flower & Moon Smile

My heart's a flower, that's my power
I open it for everyone I love
And when the sky turns deep and dark
Moon Smile watches from above
Goodnight, universe, she says to me
Even in the dark I'm held, I'm known
So I will hold the dark for you
The way that I've been shown

Chorus · fuller

Mother Earth, we promise you … we will love you, all life through

Bridge · solo child, solemn, half-spoken

Wise Owl told me: listen well
Shhhhhhhhhh! showed me the hush can sing
Unicorn Star will carry this
Into every dream I bring
So I stand here, small and sure
Barefoot in the grass and dew
And this is the promise that I make
Mother Earth, I'm keeping you

Final chorus · full children's choir, wide and bright

Outro · solo child again, quiet

And Mother Earth, she whispered too
I promise, I promise, I'll always hold you
Forever and ever, my little one
Forever and ever, till day is done

Mother Earth, We Promise You — words by Andrew Perry. Written for Wundoria, 2026. Listen.

Two

Hush Now, Little Wonder

The lullaby

The first song is a promise going out. This one is the day folding in.

It walks the same eight worlds, but backwards and downwards — not gathering a child up for an adventure, but setting them down after one. Bunny dances on the breeze and is asked to hush. The Ancient Tree's branches hum instead of teach. Sun Sparkle is behind the clouds and, crucially, is still there. By the time Moon Smile rises, the child has been handed gently from one keeper to the next all the way to sleep, which is what a lullaby is actually for.

Two lines carry the weight of it. The first is the Ancient Tree's lesson, put plainly enough for a tired three-year-old:

Rest is not a thing to earn
It's the well where wonder turns

We are a company that makes an app for children and we have written into our bedtime song that rest is not a reward for productivity. That is not an accident. A generation is being raised to believe stillness must be justified, and we would rather sing them out of it early.

The second is in the sixth verse, and it is the closest any of the three songs comes to stating the whole idea outright: what you gave away in light blooms again to bring you night. Kindness spent during the day is not gone. It comes back as rest. A child who gives something away — attention, patience, a small mercy to a snail — does not end the day emptier. That is the belief the entire company is built on, compressed into a rhyme a four-year-old falls asleep to.

And in the middle of it, sung rather than advertised, our one promise: every story ends outside.

Harp arpeggio, distant birdsong, soft wind, low drone.

Verse one · The Nature of Me

Wake up soft in orange light
Petals turning gold to white
Bunny dances on the breeze
Hush now, wonder, rest with ease
You're the sunbeam, you're the tree
You're the wide and wandering sea
Nothing here is far from you
Every root and leaf and dew

Chorus

Hush now, little wonder, close your eyes and see
You were never far from home, you were never far from me
Every story ends outside, under sky and stone and tree
Sleep now, little wonder, wild and free

Verse two · The Ancient Tree

Old as time and twice as kind
Branches hum a lullaby
Glee is curled among the roots
Dreaming dreams in mossy boots
Rest is not a thing to earn
It's the well where wonder turns
Lean your head upon the bark
Oldest songs live in the dark

Chorus

Hush now, little wonder … sleep now, little wonder, wild and free

Verse three · The Earth Is My Friend

Mother Earth with leaves for hair
Holds you gently, always there
Bones of mineral, hearts of stone
Little one, you're not alone
Bare feet whisper on the grass
Every blade you softly pass
Says hello in green and gold
You are young, and you are old

Verse four · Sun Sparkle

Somewhere past the clouds tonight
Sun Sparkle keeps her quiet light
Even hidden, never gone
Just like the sparkle you rest on
Cloudy days will always clear
Carry that, and have no fear
The brightness sleeping in your chest
Never dims, it only rests

Chorus

Hush now, little wonder … sleep now, little wonder, wild and free

Verse five · The elements

Dragon Delight beside the fall
Lets the water rise and fall
Phoenix blazes, soft and low
Harry warms the embers' glow
Wind People breathe a gentle sigh
Squirrel watches, starry-eyed
Five old friends inside of you
Earth and fire, wind and dew

Verse six · My Heart Is a Flower

Open petals, one by one
Fold them gently, day is done
What you gave away in light
Blooms again to bring you night
Heart, a flower, soft and slow
Closing now to let you go
Into gardens made of dreams
Nothing is quite what it seems

Bridge

Day is folding up her wings
Handing you to quieter things
Moon is rising, round and near
Nothing in the dark to fear
Hush, hush, the world grows still
Over hedgerow, over hill
Hush, hush, let go, let go
Drifting where the still streams flow

Verse seven · Moon Smile

Moon Smile watches from up high
Smiling down on you and I
When the sky grows dark as ink
She's still there, more near than you think
Goodnight, universe, she says
Goodnight to your tumbling day
Even in the darkest part
Something holds you, near your heart

Verse eight · In My Garden

Wise Owl wakes as we grow dim
Watching over, wing to wing
Shhhhhhhhhh! is singing soft and slow
Listen to the hush and grow
Unicorn Star will carry you
Into everything you knew
All you loved about today
Rides along the Milky Way

Final chorus · slower, half-whispered

Outro · hummed melody, harp fading, one soft owl call, wind settling into silence

Shhh… shhh… goodnight
Shhh… shhh… goodnight

Hush Now, Little Wonder — words by Andrew Perry. Written for Wundoria, 2026. Listen.

Three

I Am Enough

The parents' song

The children's song is a promise made outward. This one is a memory handed back.

It is sung to the grown-up — the one who downloaded the app, who is tired, who is quietly unsure whether any of this is working. It opens between the fire and the blue-lit door, which is where most modern evenings actually happen, and it makes an argument in four words: you knew this once.

The second verse is the closest thing Wundoria has to a philosophy of teaching. The oak does not ask to be believed in. The moon does not perform her rising. Children do not need to be taught to shine; they need to be told, early and often, that they already do — and that belonging was never a thing they had to earn their way into.

Not how to shine, but that they already do
Not how to belong here
But that they never left

The bridge is the part we would defend hardest, because it is not poetry. It is the Wundoria promise set to music, and every line of it is a commitment we have actually made: no streaks or bells chasing your child back to a screen; a first name and an age band, never a name learned in order to be sold on; and then the app gets out of the way and lets you go outside. If we ever break those promises, this verse becomes a lie — which is a useful thing for a company to have written down and set to a tune it cannot take back.

The last verse turns to face the parent in the doorway, half-relief and half-ache, watching the children run out. It offers them the same invitation the children get. Take their hand, take the old path back. There is no wiser school than wonder — and the grown-up is allowed to enrol.

Low harp drone, wind through ancient stones, one held wordless vocal note.

Verse one

Between the fire and the far-off glow
Between the hearth and the blue-lit door
Something old is calling you home
Something older than the season before
Not a lesson, not a rule to keep
Just a memory, dressed as a dream
Lay your hand upon the ground
And remember what you've always been

Chorus

I am enough, I am the light
I never left, I never leave
I am the root, I am the sky
Nothing here was ever taught to me, only known, only believed
I am enough
I carry my own sparkle in the dark
I was never separate from the world
I was always, always part

Verse two

The oak does not ask to be believed in
It simply stands, and lets you lean
The moon does not perform her rising
She is only ever what she's always been
So let your children learn this early
Not how to shine, but that they already do
Not how to belong here
But that they never left, that the belonging was always true

Chorus

I am enough, I am the light … I was always, always part

Bridge · softer, half-spoken

We will not chase you back with bells and streaks
We will not learn your name to sell it on
We ask for nothing but a first name and a season
Then we send you out, and we let you go
Because the wonder was never ours to keep
It was always yours, we only held the gate
So go on, go outside, go find the tree, the stream, the dark
Go find the self you never had to make

Verse three

And you who watch them running out the door
Half-relief, half-ache, half-hope, half-fear
You knew this once, before the noise came in
You were the light too, once, my dear
So take their hand, and take the old path back
Let the moss and moonlight teach you both the same
There is no wiser school than wonder
There is no better name than the one you had

Final chorus · slower, fuller, choir joins

I am enough, I am the light
I never left, I never leave
I am the root, I am the sky
Nothing here was ever taught to me, only known, only believed
I am enough
We carry our own sparkle in the dark
We were never separate from the world
We were always, always part

Outro · harp fading, one voice, almost a whisper

I am enough
I am enough
enough

I Am Enough — words by Andrew Perry. Written for Wundoria, 2026. Celtic, folk and new-age setting. Listen.

What the songs are for

We are a small company, and we are not going to claim we are changing the world. But a song is a cheap, durable, oddly powerful thing — it travels where a company cannot, it costs nothing to pass on, and it lodges in a person for decades. So we are giving these ones away.

Anyone may sing them. Any teacher may use them in a classroom, any parent at bedtime, any nursery at the end of a rainy morning — freely, and without asking us. The classroom side of Wundoria is free for teachers, always, and the songs sit under the same principle. That is the giving part, and it is deliberately unglamorous: we made a thing, and we are not charging children to sing it.

The lullaby says it better than a mission statement could. What you gave away in light blooms again to bring you night. Giving is not something we intend to do later, once there is money to do it with. It is the idea the songs are about.

What we are hoping for is smaller and slower than changing the world. It is one child, barefoot in wet grass, deciding of her own accord that the world is hers to look after — and one grown-up beside her remembering they used to think so too. Multiply that by enough gardens and something does shift. Not because of us. Because of them.

Credits and rights. Words for all three songs written by Andrew Perry for Wundoria. Recordings produced with AI assistance. © Wundoria, United Kingdom. The lyrics and recordings are published here as the original works of Wundoria; the songs may be freely sung, performed and shared by families, teachers and schools. For any commercial use, please write to hello@wundoria.org.