I often sit and wish that I,
Could be a kite up in the sky.
And ride upon the breeze and go,
Whatever way I chanced to blow.
Then I could look beyond the town,
And see the river winding down.
And follow all the ships that sail,
Like me, before the merry gale.
Until at last with them I came,
To some place with a foreign name.
To HOME PAGE
© english-for-students.com. All rights reserved.