They say the eagle is a bird
That sees some splendid sights
When he soars high into the sky
Upon his dizzy flights:
He sees the ground for miles around
Our house, and Billy Johnson’s;
But we can not be Eagles, for
That would, of course, be nonsense.
But you and I, some summer day,
Providing we’re allowed,
Will go up in an aeroplane
And sail right through a cloud.
But, if they say we may not go,
We’ll stay upon the ground
With other things that have no wings,
And watch them walk around.
They say the bottom of the sea
Is beautiful to view;
They say the fish, whene’er they wish,
Can sail and see ‘it, too,.
The shining pearls, the coral curls,
The sharks, the squids, the schnappers,
And fish with fins (though not in tins)
And fish with funny flappers.
But you and I, some sunny day,
When weather’s in condition,
Will go there in a submarine,
Providing we’ve permission.
But if they say we may not go
We must respect their wishes;
And you and I will just keep dry
Because we are not fishes.
They say to fly so very high
Is not exactly pleasant.
They say to go deep down below
Is not quite safe at present.
But you and I don’t care for that,
And, if there’s time for spending,
When work is done, we’ll have our fun
By simply just pretending.
The earth is quite a jolly place,
And we don’t care for flying;
And things that creep down in the deep
Are sometimes rather trying.
So, if they’ll grant a holiday
Or even only half,
We’ll lie upon some grassy place,
And think of things, and laugh.