And as the floor was rather dry,
We got the water-jug,
And slooshed it all about the room
And simply sopped the rug.
My kiddy brother was the beast,
I killed him with the poker;
My kiddy cousin screamed and yelled
As if we meant to soak her.
So we were punished just because
We played at 'let's pretend.'
Don Quixote would have understood,
He would have been our friend.
Hullo! there goes the bell for tea;
They've lighted up the hall,
And I must go and wash my hands
And fetch Miss Perkins' shawl.
THE wettest days in London
Are quite a jolly spree:
Our house is like an island,
The wet street like a sea.
The rain beats on our windows
And splashes on the sill;
But the dining-room's a jungle,
The staircase is a hill.
Our camping-ground's the nursery,
The hall's a coral-reef;
My sister's cot's a schooner,
And Nurse an Indian chief.
Miss Perkins is a pirate,
The maids are cannibals;
They have orgies in the pantry
Unless a person calls.
We've guns and swords and pistols,
We've several sorts of flags;
By shooting on the hillside
We've got some splendid bags.