HIS IMAGINATION

One thing that's yours, my little child Your poor old dad is simply wild To own. It's not a book or toy; It's your imagination, boy. If I possessed it, what a time I'd have, nor need to spend a dime!

I wish that I could get astride A broom, and have a horse to ride; Or climb into the swing, and be A sailor on the deep blue sea, Or b'lieve a chair a choo-choo train, Bound anywhere and back again.

If I could ride as fast and far On ship or horse, in train or car, As you, at small expense or none, If I could have one-half your fun And do the things that you do, free, I'd give them back my salary.