Ololo

He writes rhymes for his friends' children
 Dotes on mystery stories
 At the slightest provocation he sings
 Slightest provocation he sings folk songs
 Of key and in key
 Here and there people sat on benches
 Reading newspapers or straining
 Their faces to the sun, their eyes closed
 Trying to catch a bit of sunburn
 To carry home proudly
 He pulled his feet under his bench
 He pulled his feet under his bench
 As he was ashamed of his shoes
 His dog loves to walk and travel
 In cars, in planes, on rafts
 Elevators and on escalators
 Then we'll let some daylight into
 It for once if it kills us right on the spot
 No sort of middle state
 No easy jog trot with him
 If he never wrote when he wasn't
 In the mood
 He would make no headway
 Ololo, Ololo, Ololo, Ololo
 Here and there people sat on benches
 Reading newspapers or straining
 Their faces to the sun, their eyes closed
 Trying to catch a bit of sunburn
 To carry home proudly
 Ololo, Ololo, Ololo, Ololo
 Ololo, Ololo, Ololo, Ololo
 Ololo, Ololo, Ololo, Ololo
 Ololo, Ololo, Ololo, Ololo
 Ololo, Ololo, Ololo, Ololo