If the trees could pack their trunks
For a holiday,
And if cats and dogs could talk,
But no words could we say,
If the flowers should all try,
Like the birds, to sing and fly,
And the birds were always found,
Growing up out of the ground,
Dear, dear, wouldn't that be queer?
(Dear, dear, wouldn't that be queer?)

If the babies, when they came,
Were all old and tall,
And grew down, instead of up,
To be quite young and small,
If the sun should come out bright
In the middle of the night,
And the moon should come and stay
In the middle of the day,
Dear, dear, wouldn't that be queer?
(Dear, dear, wouldn't that be queer?)