“I’m going to the office.” So says my youngster, and Gets on the train to take him there (The train’s the sofa or a chair, Whichever’s near at hand.)
“Now I am to the office. I’m working now,” says he, And just continues standing there On that same lounge or that same chair, As idle as can be.
Perhaps four seconds after He first got on his train, I see him getting off once more. He steps or falls onto the floor And says, “I’m home again.”
I don’t know what they pay him, Nor where the office is. The nature of the boy’s posish I’ve never learned—but how I wish I had that job of his!