This country is not on the map,
But sometimes, curled on Mother's lap,
Or sitting in my bedtime bath,
I wish that I could find the path.
There no one's ever called a dunce,
And you eat jam and cake at once,
Or chocolate and lemon squash,
While nobody need ever wash.
Mothers have nothing else to do
Except to kiss and cuddle you;
And fathers need not "earn their bread,"
But stay and romp with you instead.
There are no girls: just men and boys
And mothers; all the shops sell toys;
Just every one plays Hide and Seek,
And Christmas happens twice a week.
While everybody has a car,
Also a yacht, like Grandpapa,
And lives in wigwams, tents, or huts,
And owns a knife that really cuts.
But some things you can never find,
However tired you make your mind;
Like other things you never know
For sure—if you try ever so.
Just as: how God turns on the rain,
So nobody can quite explain
Exactly where the rainbows end.
And so it is with Let'spretend.
My Father says that all his life
With my Mamma (who is his wife)
They've looked; and they are very old.
My father's thirty, I've been told!
