When summer's in the city,
And brick's a blaze of heat,
The Ice-Cream Man with his little cart
Goes trundling down the street.
Beneath his round umbrella
Oh, what a joyful sight,
To see him cones with mounds
of cooling brown and white;
Vanilla, chocolate, strawberry,
or chilly things to drink.
From bottles full of frosty fizz,
green, orange, white or pink.
His cart might be a flowerbed
Of roses and sweet peas,
They way the children cluster round
As thick as honeybees
No comments:
Post a Comment