And I'd pick the moss and the daisies white,

And chew their stalks with a nibbling bite;

And I'd let my fancies roam abroad

In search of a hint for a birthday ode,

Crazily, crazily!

Oh, that would be the life for me,

With plenty to get and nothing to do,

But to deck a pet poodle with ribbons of blue,

And whistle all day to the Queen's cockatoo,

Trance-somely, trance-somely!