They say the eagle is a bird That sees some splendid
When he soars high into the sky Upon his dizzy flights:
He sees the ground for miles around Our house, and Billy Johnson's;
But we can not be Eagles, for That would, of course, be nonsense.
But you and I, some summer day, Providing we're allowed,
Will go up in an aeroplane And sail right through a cloud.
But, if they say we may not go, We'll stay upon the
With other things that have no wings, And watch them walk around.
They say the bottom of the sea Is beautiful to view;
They say the fish, whene'er they wish, Can sail and see 'it, too,.
The shining pearls, the coral curls, The sharks, the squids, the schnappers,
And fish with fins (though not in tins) And fish with funny flappers.
But you and I, some sunny day, When weather's in condition,
Will go there in a submarine, Providing we've permission.
But if they say we may not go We must respect their wishes;
And you and I will just keep dry Because we are not fishes.
They say to fly so very high Is not exactly pleasant.
They say to go deep down below Is not quite safe at present.
But you and I don't care for that, And, if there's time for spending,
When work is done, we'll have our fun By simply just pretending.
The earth is quite a jolly place, And we don't care for flying;
And things that creep down in the deep Are sometimes rather trying.
So, if they'll grant a holiday Or even only half,
We'll lie upon some grassy place, And think of things, and laugh.
