The Ownerless Toys

Our Uncle Bill’s attic is half full of toys, With some that are almost brand-new; He’s got things up there for most all kinds of boys From ten years old clear down to two. And one day he gave me some books from up there Like boys had a long time ago; And I asked if the boy they belong to would care, But he just sort of smiled and said no.

Sometimes we would go in his attic to play And find such a lot of fine things, A whole lot of picture books all piled away And tops that were wound up with strings. And Uncle Bill told us to use what was there Just as if it was ours, and we’d go, But we’d ask if the boy they belong to would care, And he just sort of smiled and said no.

And my! There were sleds with their runners all rust, And five or six good pairs of skates, Some old-fashioned toys that were covered with dust, And fishlines and schoolbooks and slates, Which Uncle Bill told us we fellows might share, But always put back when we go; And we thought that the boy they belong to might care, But he just sort of smiled and said no.

And the boy they belong to, I guess, was away. At least, we all thought he must be; For all through the house they could hear us at play, But he never came up there to see. And we would pile everything back up with care And ask Uncle Bill when we’d go If the boy they belong to would know we’d been there, But he just sort of smiled and said no.

Our Uncle Bill’s attic is half full of toys, Some old ones and some almost new; He’s got things up there for most all kinds of boys From ten years old clear down to two. And often when we boys go up there to play We ask Uncle Bill when we go If the boy they belong to will be back that day, And he smiles sort of sad and says no.