The Children’S Ship

(Presented to the Picture-Book Fund for French Children)

What ship is this comes speeding on? They say she’s bound for France. Why, sir, she’s called the “Children’s Ship” And every wave’s a-dance To push her swift across the sea, For over there, they say, There’s hosts of homeless little folk, Who weep instead of play.

And what’s her freight, my little man, What cargo does she bear? Is’t food to eat, or milk to drink, Or clothes for babes to wear? Why, sir, our ship has none of these! French children all are sad; We’re sending heaps of laughing-stock And stuff to make them glad.

Our ship is crammed with savings-banks, From turret down to hold, And some are full of silver coins And some are full of gold, This splendid treasure we’ve amassed And all is freely sent To buy those children picture-books, And bring them back content.

They say the French, poor little things, Can’t read an English word, But picture-books are in a tongue That every one has heard. We’ve saved our pennies, day by day, Nor given toys a glance And now the money’ll change to smiles For little folk in France.