What a perfect place for a treehouse
In the limbs of that old tree
I'd spend all my time just dreaming
Of what a wonderful time it would be
To be running away from the pirates
Who were after me!

While looking for a place to hide
I'd look up and see
That treehouse snuggled high above
The perfect place for me.

The only way up
Not the way you would think
Was a little old Elf
Sitting there on a shelf
Saying, "I'll give you a boost for a drink"

So I pulled out my cup
And went looking
For water was surely nearby

He said, "Water's not my favorite drink,
                   I'll have a cup of Rye"

I had no Rye to my name
Thinking quickly on my feet
"Let the pirates give him a drink of Rye"

When they go up,
I'll say "Goodbye"

What a perfect place for a treehouse,

If I were only 10 (again}.