HIS IMAGINATION

One thing that's yours, my little child

Your poor old dad is simply wild

To own. It's not a book or toy;

It's your imagination, boy.

If I possessed it, what a time

I'd have, nor need to spend a dime!

I wish that I could get astride

A broom, and have a horse to ride;

Or climb into the swing, and be

A sailor on the deep blue sea,

Or b'lieve a chair a choo-choo train,

Bound anywhere and back again.

If I could ride as fast and far

On ship or horse, in train or car,

As you, at small expense or none,

If I could have one-half your fun

And do the things that you do, free,

I'd give them back my salary.