Young America
Wee Willie sat a-thinking,
And he shook his curly head.
Around him on the nursery floor
His treasures lay outspread.
Firecrackers and torpedoes,
Trumpet and flag and drum,
Rockets and pinwheels and paper caps,
For Fourth of July had come.
“But it makes me sort o’ sorry,”
Wee Willie said with a sigh,
“To think of those poor little English boys
Without any Fourth of July.”
A Bicycle built for Two
There was an ambitious young eel
Who determined to ride on a wheel;
But try as he might,
He couldn’t ride right,
In spite of his ardor and zeal.