"Of course not," said the postman, testily, "who would write me all this lot of letters? They belong to the different citizens of Snoopania."
"Oh," said the Prince, "you don't read other people's letters, I hope."
"Well," retorted the postman, opening his eyes very wide, "I should hope I did. If I didn't I'd lose my job. Every letter must be torn open and read, and every postal card must not only be read but committed to memory. I could shut my eyes right now and tell you what I've read on a million postal cards only I haven't the time. This is the way of it, you see:
A postman's life is a busy one,
His working hours are never done,
For all of the letters the public writes
He has to read at home at nights;
And all of the postals, yes, sir-ee,
He has to commit to memoree.
And so if you think I'm cross a bit