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Little boy kneels at the foot of the bed.
What an idea he has in his head;
It may be a mouse or a tiger or two,
There’s trouble for someone afore the night’s through.
Little boy wondering how many stairs
How did he climb them? They seem like chairs
One foot on one and one on another
He’d like to sit or be carried by mother.
Little boy’s small and cannot wander
So it’s to bed he’ll go to ponder
Make it a ship or a boat
Oh, if only he could make it float
Little boy stands on the end of his bed.
“What are you doing Sir?” I said,
“I’m an Admiral — bold and brave
And I’ll defy the watery wave!”
But then the door swings open wide
Mother reviews her joy and pride
“Time for bed, to be tucked up tight
And mind the sails are set just right.”
“For it might snow, or rain, or hail,
Or out at sea it might just gale
And if the rigging’s not in trim
Oh, what will then become of him?”
So from his cockpit snug and sound
The Captain docks and runs aground
No trips around the bay
For he has gone to bed to stay.