Tickled by a Straw

From his dreams of tops and marbles,
Where the soaring kites he saw,
Is that little urchin wakened,
Tickled by a wheaten straw.

How do you suppose he likes it,
Young one with annoying paw?
If I only were your mother,
I’d tickle you with birchen straw.

Soon enough, from pleasant dreaming,
You’ll be wakened by the law,
Which provides for every vision
Some sort of provoking straw.

In dreams of play, or hope, or loving,
When plans of happiness you draw,
Underneath your nose may wiggle
Life’s most aggravating straw