He lives within his Toytown house
And stays, contented, there;
Happy, silent as a mouse
Dozed in his tortile chair.
Ready and alert is he,
Uncertain what's in store,
Thinking next who it may be
Comes knocking at his door.



Will someone call to visit soon?
Will someone come to play?
Will someone tease and hum a tune
Upon this very day?
All alone he'll sit and mope
The smile washed from his face;
Sadly, tearful in the hope
Some antic should take place.



But wait!   what's this?  a fuss he hears
Along the nursery lane;
He ***** his head and ****** his ears
And harkens it again.
Did he sense a stir, so slight?
Yes!  he's sure he did...
He springs and gives them such a fright
When someone lifts his lid.