The Wishing Little Boy

There was a Little Boy, with two little eyes,

And he had a little head that was just the proper size,

And two little arms, and two little hands;

On two little legs this Little Boy stands.

Now, this little boy would now and then be cross

Because that he could only be the very thing he was;

He wanted this, and then he wanted that;

His head was full of wishes underneath his little hat.

“I wish I was a drummer to beat a kettle-drum,

I wish I was a giant to say Fee-fo-fi-faw-fum;

I wish I was a captain to go sailing in a ship;

I wish I was a huntsman to crack a nice whip.

“I wish I was a horse to go sixty miles an hour;

I wish I was the man that lives up in the lighthouse tower;

I wish I was a seagull with two long wings;

I wish I was a traveller to see all sorts of things.

“I wish I was a carpenter, I wish I was a lord;

I wish I was a soldier with pistol and a sword;

I wish I was the man that goes high in a balloon;

I wish, I wish, I wish I could be something else, and soon!”

But all the wishing in the world is not a bit of use;

That Little Boy, this very day, he stands in his own shoes;

That Little Boy is still but little Master What-do-you-call,

As much as if that Little Boy had never wished at all!

-       William B. Rands[1]

---

[1] Born in 1823 in England, William Brighty Rands published several volumes of children’s literature anonymously and contributed to various periodicals under the pseudonyms Matthew Browne, Henry Holbeach, and T. Talker. He worked as a reporter in the House of Commons and died in 1882. (Source: poemhunter.com)