THE WHALE
O wouldn’t you like to ride on a whale
And sail serenely by,
An eighty-foot whale from your tip to your tail
And a tiny, briny eye?
Wouldn’t you like to wallow
Where nobody says “Come out!”
Wouldn’t you love to swallow
And blow all the brine about?
Wouldn’t you like to be always clean
But never have to wash, I mean,
And wouldn’t you love to spout
O yes – just think –
A feather of spray as you sail away
And rise and sink and rise and sink
And blow all the brine about?
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