The tiny little Tiptoes, from the Land of Wonder-Where,
Walk all around our houses, and we never know they’re there;
They climb the chairs and tables, and they hang upon the door,
They wind the clock, and ride the cat, and slide upon the floor.
They come to see the baby bathed, and stand, all in a row,
Upon the edge of Little Tub, and lean to watch the show;
They clap their hands at every splash; and then away they fly,
To see what cook is making, and dance upon the pie.
At night, when lamps are lighted, they hurry all about
(Like owls, they see much better when the moon and stars are out;)
They gather round the fireplace, to hear the fam’ly talk,
And walk upon the mantle; but you never hear them walk.
The things they do are dangerous; I’m sure you’re thinking that;
They might be drowned in Bath-Tub, or eaten by the cat:
But their little hands are careful, and their footsteps soft as breath,
And at a sudden rattle they are frightened half to death.
(Now, did you ever hear, at dusk, with no one in the room,
The wicker chair go snappy-snap, like bristles in a broom?
Well, then you may be certain, so the Really-Trulies say,
That a Tiptoe slipped and tumbled, and is running fast away.)