Wishing

I wish I were a postage stamp

     Bought by mi-lady grand;

She’d moisten me upon her lips,

     Then pat me with her hand.

I wish I were a finger ring,

     Upon her slender hand;

You see, I’d always be around,

     And be her little band.

I wish I were a saucy curl

     Upon her tresses gay;

For then I would be locked to her

     And throw the key away!

I wish I were her looking glass

     Where smiles and dimples play;

For then mi-lady’d look at me

     A hundred times a day.

I wish I were – but I am not –

     So why weep or complain?

If I were all of these I fear

     I couldn’t stand the strain.

Dec. 5, 1912