Goblins
When I am cross as I can be, and nothing’s
ever right,
Then Mummy says there’s naughty goblins,
hiding out of sight,
Who try to make me do what’s wrong, and try
to make me bad,
They like me to forget things, and make other
people sad.
I’ve never found them anywhere, I don’t know
where to look,
I’ve only seen them in the pages of my
picture-book,
But oh, I’m sure they’re all about in
everybody’s house,
Little creepy-crawley things, as quiet as a
mouse.
When cook forgets to put the sugar in the
Sunday cake,
And gardener breaks the barrow-wheel, and
loses Daddie’s rake,
And Nurse is very cross indeed, and won’t let
me go out,
I always know those nasty little goblins are
about.
I play next-door with Peter, and there’s
goblins even there,
Altho’ it’s such a lovely house, I can’t think
how they dare,
But often Peter’s Daddie is as grumpy as can
be,
All over nothing, so the goblins must be there,
you see.
Whenever things go very wrong, I hide myself
away,
To try and see those goblins, and I’m sure I
shall some day.
And if they bother you at all, you try and
catch them, too,
And will you save them up for me to look at,
if you do?