I sat drinking lemonade
The moon was in my anglepoise
It shone on books with leery looks
And on my father's toys
Shocking secrets in his dark recess
Alone would make the devil wince
And the table turns as my ice cream burns
To crumble into chintz
His library sits on splintered shelves
Which i myself helped to construct
It's wrapped and clean in a plastic sheen
So as not to corrupt
(not to corrupt such little boys, who
Should not play with grown-up toys)
I'm wiping dust from mother's face
As she stares at me from her box
There's fifty more where she came from
Oh bless my cotton socks
I'm still drinking lemonade
The sun shines on the anglo-poison
It shines on books with leery looks
And on me fa... (father's friends are healthy
And father's friends are wealthy, cause father's
Books cost money, i'm so naive)
...me fa—so la—te do