The bathroom is a trickling room,
And always smells of paint,
The cupboard's full of medicine
For fever, cold or faint.
My bedroom is a brassy room
With pictures on the wall:
It's rather full of nurse's clothes
But then my own are small.
Our house is very high and red,
The steps are very white,
The balcony is full of flowers,
The knocker's very bright.
[A] Nobody knows what SALVE means
OUR square is really most select,
Infectious children, dogs and cats
Are not allowed to come inside,
Nor any people from the flats.
I have a sweetheart in the square,
I bring her pebbles that I find,
And curious shapes in mould, and sticks,
And kiss her when she does not mind.
She wears a dress of crackling white,
A shiny sash of pink or blue,
And over these a pinafore,
And she comes out at half-past two.
Her legs are tall and thin and black,
Her eyes are very large and brown,
And as she walks along the paths,
Her frock moves slowly up and down.