THE ALCHEMIST

There lives an old man at the top of the street And the end of his beard reaches down to his feet, And he’s just the one person I’m longing to meet, I think that he sounds so exciting; For he talks all the day to his tortoiseshell cat, And he asks about this, and explains about that, And at night he puts on a big wide-awake¹ hat And sits in the writing-room, writing. He has worked all his life (and he’s terribly old) At a wonderful spell which says, “Lo, and behold! Your nursery fender is gold!”—and it’s gold! (Or the tongs, or the rod for the curtain); But some how he hasn’t got hold of it quite, Or the liquid you pour on it first isn’t right, So that’s why he works at it night after night Till he knows he can do it for certain.

GROWING UP I’ve got shoes with grown up laces, I’ve got knickers and a pair of braces, I’m all ready to run some races. Who’s coming out with me? I’ve got a nice new pair of braces, I’ve got shoes with new brown laces I know wonderful paddly places. Who’s coming out with me? Every morning my new grace is, “Thank you, God, for my nice braces I can tie my new brown laces.” Who’s coming out with me?

IF I WERE KING I often wish I were a King, And then I could do anything. If only I were King of Spain, I’d take my hat off in the rain. If only I were King of France, I wouldn’t brush my hair for aunts. I think, if I were King of Greece, I’d push things off the mantelpiece. If I were King of Norroway, I’d ask an elephant to stay. If I were King of Babylon, I’d leave my button gloves undone. If I were King of Timbuctoo, I’d think of lovely things to do. If I were King of anything, I’d tell the soldiers, “I’m the King!”

VESPERS Little Boy kneels at the foot of the bed, Droops on the little hands little gold head. Hush! Hush! Whisper who dares! Christopher Robin is saying his prayers. God bless Mummy. I know that’s right. Wasn’t it fun in the bath to-night? The cold’s so cold, and the hot’s so hot. Oh! God bless Daddy—I quite forgot. If I open my fingers a little bit more, I can see Nanny’s dressing-gown on the door. It’s a beautiful blue, but it hasn’t a hood. Oh! God bless Nanny and make her good. Mine has a hood, and I lie in bed, And pull the hood right over my head, And I shut my eyes, and I curl up small, And nobody knows that I’m there at all. Oh! Thank you, God, for a lovely day. And what was the other I had to say? I said “Bless Daddy,” so what can it be? Oh! Now I remember it. God bless Me. Little Boy kneels at the foot of the bed, Droops on the little hands little gold head. Hush! Hush! Whisper who dares! Christopher Robin is saying his prayers.