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Project Gutenberg Australia HomeReturn to Index of Poems
The call me a loafer they say I’m no good,
I won’t dig in their garden,
Nor chop in their wood;
They don’t know I’m studyin’
While they slight me and frown,
To invent a wingwum to wind the sun down.
Now look at the waiting ‘twill save every year,
Just fancy a twelvemonth since Xmas was here!
But, oh, ‘twill come often
And bring me renown,
When I’ve finished my wingwum
To wind the sun down.
E.S.S.
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