That may not be the proper way To spell their name; I cannot say. I’ve never seen ’em written out: I’ve only heard ’em talked about. They’re coming here tonight to dine, So says that little son of mine. But all last week, ’twas just the same; They were to come, and never came.
And I’m just skeptical enough To think they’re all a myth, a bluff; Mere creatures of my youngster’s brain, Whose coming he’ll await in vain. And yet to him they’re very real. They own a big black auto’bile. They work downtown, and they’ll arrive Out here at one-two-three-four-five.