 | A merry-go-round of song |  |
84
THE PLAYFELLOW GIANT
The Playfellow Giant, who lives but to play
With the children he loves so, at peeping of day
Was eager to think of the numberless heads
Of dear little bodies in dear little beds,
And delighted to know that the chubby and slim,
With the fair and the dark, and the tousled and trim,
Every delicate Mary, each riotous Tim,
Was expected at eight to have breakfast with him.
So he got a loaf of Wakefulness, as big as any hill,
And he cut it into slices, did this Giant of Goodwill,
As he thought of radiant children playing scampers in his sight.
Yes, you honey-hearted dear; yes, you robin, yes,
He cut the magic loaf in two, he cut with all his might,
And on every round of Wakefulness he spread a lump of Light!
With the children he loves so, at peeping of day
Was eager to think of the numberless heads
Of dear little bodies in dear little beds,
And delighted to know that the chubby and slim,
With the fair and the dark, and the tousled and trim,
Every delicate Mary, each riotous Tim,
Was expected at eight to have breakfast with him.
So he got a loaf of Wakefulness, as big as any hill,
And he cut it into slices, did this Giant of Goodwill,
As he thought of radiant children playing scampers in his sight.
Yes, you honey-hearted dear; yes, you robin, yes,
He cut the magic loaf in two, he cut with all his might,
And on every round of Wakefulness he spread a lump of Light!
The Playfellow Giant, who lives but to play
With the children he loves so, at ending of day,
While laughing to think of the capital fun
Of the darlings it pleased him to bake in the sun,
Was told by the Tubfellow Dame that a war
Of the sponge must begin with the dirt and the tar,
As she knew by a voice that had travelled afar
From the silvery lips of the Soapbubble Star.
So he got a loaf of Sleepiness, as big as any hill,
And he cut it into slices, did this Giant of Goodwill,
As he thought of joy to-morrow in the meadow and the park.
Yes, you honey-hearted dear; yes, you robin, yes,
He was counting on to-morrow, and was singing like a lark
As on every slice of Sleepiness he spread a lump of Dark!
With the children he loves so, at ending of day,
While laughing to think of the capital fun
Of the darlings it pleased him to bake in the sun,
Was told by the Tubfellow Dame that a war
Of the sponge must begin with the dirt and the tar,
As she knew by a voice that had travelled afar
From the silvery lips of the Soapbubble Star.
85
And he cut it into slices, did this Giant of Goodwill,
As he thought of joy to-morrow in the meadow and the park.
Yes, you honey-hearted dear; yes, you robin, yes,
He was counting on to-morrow, and was singing like a lark
As on every slice of Sleepiness he spread a lump of Dark!
| A merry-go-round of song | |