Three little dreams flew in from the south
And they flew in a swift straight line
And one was a dream of peaches and cream
And that little dream was mine;
I dreamed that a pretty white cloth was spread
With the round moon set for a dish
And I ate in state of peaches and cream
As much as my heart could wish.
The next little dream was a funny one;
It came to Molly O’Lear;
She thought that she rode on a great green goose
That bucked like a Texas steer;
It flopped about, till it knocked her off,
And it cackled “Gingerbread Joke;”
And Molly wondered what that could be,
And while she was wondering, woke.
The last little dream was the best of all.
It flew to Elizabeth Lee.
She swung in a hammock, embroidered with snails,
Way up to the top of a tree;
And there she found, all cuddled away,
In a sort of a cottony nest,
The Little Lost Princess of Shut-Eye town;—
No wonder her dream was best.