I lay on my chest, And I thought it best
To pretend I was having an evening rest;
I lay on my tum And I tried to hum
But nothing particular seemed to come.
My face was flat on the floor,
And that Is all very well for an acrobat;
But it doesn't seem fair To a Friendly Bear
To stiffen him out with a basket-chair.
And a sort of sqoze Which grows and grows
Is not too nice for his poor old nose,
And a sort of squch Is much too much For his neck
and his mouth and his ears and such.