The Little Old Man
There was a little old man and he had a little home,
And after it got dark at night never would he roam.
He made himself a little dinner and then he’d take his seat,
He’d watch a little television while he carefully chewed his meat.
Once the dishes were put away he’d read a little book,
Until he’d start to drift off to sleep then he’d set it in a nook.
He’d use his little hands to wash his little face,
And he’d think of the one he’d loved and long for her embrace.
Then he’d climb into his little bed and fall into a dream,
And share a picnic lunch with her beside a little stream.
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