JACK OF THE INKPOT
I dance on your paper, I hide on your pen, I make in your inkstand my little black den, And, when you’re not looking, I hop on your nose, And leave on your forehead the marks of my toes. When you’re trying to finish your “i” with a dot, I slip down your finger and make it a blot; And when you’re so busy to cross a a big “T,” I make on the paper a little Black Sea. I drink blotting-paper, eat pen-wiper pie, You never can catch me, you never need try! I leap any distance, I use any ink, I am on to your fingers before you can wink. —Sent in by Nancy Waller.
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/SUNAK19280901.2.200
Bibliographic details
Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 418, 1 September 1928, Page 31
Word Count
121JACK OF THE INKPOT Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 418, 1 September 1928, Page 31
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