All In The Golden Afternoon
All in the golden afternoon full leisurely we glide 
For both our oars, with little skill, by little arms are plied 
While little hands make vain pretence our wanderings to guide 
Our wanderings to guide 

Ah, [bad word] three! In such an hour, beneath such dreamy weather 
To beg a tale of breath too weak to stir the tiniest feather 
Yet what can one poor voice avail, against three tongues together 
Against three tongues together 

Anon, to sudden silence won, in fancy they pursue 
The dream child moving through a land of wonders wild and new 
In friendly chat with bird or beast--and half believe it [bad word] 
And half believe it [bad word] 

And ever, as the story drained the wells of fancy dry 
And faintly strove that weary one to put the subject by 
The next time--"It is next time" the happy voices cry! 
The happy voices cry! 

Thus grew the tale of wonderland, thus slowly one by one 
Its quaint events were hammered out--and now the tale is done 
And home we steer 
merry crew 
Beneath the setting sun