Longing

When we were at the age of four, We sure were hard to please; We longed to play with lousy dogs Then get our hair full o' fleas.

At ten we longed for slimy frogs, And fight the stinging bumble bees; We often wished that we could climb, Like chattering monkeys in the trees.

At twelve we longed for man's estate, That we might come and go Wherever fancy seemed to call, Or travel with a medicine show.

At twenty-five we were in love, And longed for pretty girls; Wished we had a million bucks, To buy them rings and strings of pearls.

And now, by gosh, at forty-five, We wish that we were boys; And long to dream of pirate's gold, And to play with kiddies' toys.