The sound of trumpets And bagpipes And cannon And smells of pig roasting And fires smoking
The clicking of hooves Along cobblestone My mother yells Wee child get ye out road ! I ignore her And she smiles and she runs To swoop me up in her big bosom I kick and scream
Pet m'down!
I love the feel of my own feet On cobblestone To be surrounded by adoring faces Waiting for the procession With their colorful flags And gilded carriages Their big beards and big robes And ladies who sparkle with cold cold eyes
They will pass by soon She gives me a spot of sweet bread To satisfy me And tells me to Stay Child!
I do But still I step one small stubnorn foot Out amongst the cobblestone My clogged toe Out on the street Of the big wide world.