The Little Boy Next Door
There is a little boy next door,
He often peeps at me
When Nursie takes me for a walk
Before I have my tea.
And when I take my dollies out
He watches more and more—
I wonder why he doesn’t play—
The little boy next door!
His eyes are very big and brown,
His hair is soft and bright;
But I am sure he’s ill, because
His face is thin and white.
He never walks a single step,
Although I’m sure he’s four—
His nursie always carries him—
The little boy next door!
Sometimes he waves his hand to me
And beckons me—like this:
And I just climb up on my chair
And blow him back a kiss.
He loves to watch the sunbeams dance,
Or great big raindrops pour;
And every tiny birdie knows
The little boy next door!
But yesterday—I can’t forget—
I stood up in my chair
To beckon to the little boy;
But, oh! he wasn’t there.
And Nursie said he’d gone away—
She wouldn’t tell me more—
I wonder if he thinks of me—
The little boy next door!