THE REAL THING.
There’s a stream in my garden. It isn’t
a stream, I’m only pretending you know, It’s really a path made of c-rookedy
stones, That leads to a border below.
There’s a boat on the bank of the silvery stream, A dear little boat that I row. My boat isn’t real, it’s a barrow, of
course, I’m only pretending, you know
To-day when I went for a bit of a sail, My ship overturned in a squall. You’ll see if you look at my knees and my nose, This isn’t pretending at all!
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/HAWST19260220.2.126
Bibliographic details
Hawera Star, Volume XLV, 20 February 1926, Page 16
Word Count
95THE REAL THING. Hawera Star, Volume XLV, 20 February 1926, Page 16
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