THE POSTMAN





I'd like to be a postman, and walk along the street,

Calling out, "Good Morning, Sir," to gentlemen I meet,

Ringing every door-bell all along my beat,

In my cap and uniform so very nice and neat.

Perhaps I'd have a parasol in case of rain or heat;

But I wouldn't be a postman if . . .

The walking hurt my feet.

Would you?





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