And to Think That I Saw It on Mulberry Street

How a plain horse and wagon on Mulberry Street

Grows into a story that no one can beat. ...

WHEN I leave home to walk to school,

Dad always says to me,

“Marco, keep your eyelids up

And see what you can see.”

But when I tell him where I’ve been

And what I think I’ve seen,

He looks at me and sternly says,

“Your eyesight’s much too keen.

“Stop telling such outlandish tales.

Stop turning minnows into whales.”

Now, what can I say

When I get home today?

All the long way to school

And all’ the way back,

I've looked and I've looked

And I’ve kept careful track,

But all that I’ve noticed,

Except my own feet,

Was a horse and a wagon

On Mulberry Street.

That's nothing to tell of,

That won't do, of course...

Just a broken-down wagon

That's drawn by a horse.

That can’t be my story, That's only a start.

I'll say that a ZEBRA was pulling that cart!

And that ts a story that no one can beat,

When I say that I saw it on Mulberry Street.

Yes, the zebra is fine,

But | think it’s a shame,

Such a marvelous beast

With a cart that’s so tame.

The story would really be better to hear

If the driver I saw were a charioteer.

A gold and blue chariot’s something to meet,

Rumbling like thunder down Mulberry Street! ~

No, it won't do at all...

A zebra’s too small.

A reindeer is better;

He’s fast and he’s fleet,

And he'd look mighty smart

On old Mulberry Street.

Hold on a minute!

There's something wrong! 

A reindeer hates the way it feels

To pull a thing that runs on wheels.

He'd be much happier, instead,

If he could pull a fancy sled.

Hmmmm... A reindeer and sleigh .. .

I'l pick one with plenty of power and size,

A blue one with plenty of fun in his eyes.

And then, just to give him a little more tone,

Have a Rajah, with rubies, perched high on a throne.

Say—anyone could think of that,

Jack or Fred or Joe or Nat—

Say, even Jane could think of that.

But it isn't too late to make one little change. 

A sleigh and an ELEPHANT! There’s something strange!

Say! ‘hat makes a story that no one can beat,

When I say that I saw it on Mulberry Street.

But now I don’t know...

It still doesn’t seem right.

An elephant pulling a thing that’s so light 

Would whip it around in the air like a kite.

But he'd look simply grand

With a great big brass band!

A band that’s so good should have someone to hear it,

But it’s going so fast that it’s hard to keep near it.

I'll put on a trailer! I know they won't mind

If a man sits and listens while hitched on behind.

But now is it fair? Is it fair what I've done?

I'll bet those wagons weigh more than a ton.

That's really too heavy a load for one beast;

I'll give him some helpers. He needs two, at least.

But now what worries me is this . .

Mulberry Street runs into Bliss.

Unless there’s something I can fix up,

There'll be an awful trafhc mix-up!

It takes Police to do the trick,

‘To guide them through where trafhe’s thick —

It takes Police to do the trick.

They'll never crash now. They'll race at top speed

With Sergeant Mulvaney, himself, in the lead.

The Mayor is there

And the Aldermen too,

All waving big banners

Of red, white and blue.

The Mayor is there

And he thinks it is grand,

And he raises his hat

As they dash by the stand. 

And that is a story that NO ONE can beat

When I say that I saw it on Mulberry Street!

With a roar of its motor an airplane appears

And dumps out confetti while everyone cheers. 

And that makes a story that’s really not bau

But it still could be better. Suppose that I add

A Chinaman

Who eats with sticks. ...

A big Magician

Doing tricks

A ten-foot beard

That needs a comb....

No time for more,

I'm almost home.

I swung ‘round the corner

And dashed through the gate,

I ran up the steps

And I felt simply GREAT! 

But Dad said quite calmly,

Just craw up your stool

And tell me the sights

On the way home from school.”

FOR I HAD A STORY THAT NO ONE COULD BEAT!

AND TO THINK THAT I SAW IT ON MULBERRY STREET!

There was so much to tell, | JUST COULDN'T BEGIN!

Dad looked at me sharply and pulled at his chin.

He frowned at me sternly from there in his seat,

“Was there nothing to look at... no people to greet?

Did nothing excite you or make your heart beat?”

‘‘Nothing,” I said, growing red as a beet,

‘But a plain horse and wagon on Mulberry Street.”