King Kokem lay snoozing upon his brass bed—
Oh, play an old tune on your fiddle!
With shoes on his feet, and a crown on his head—
Oh, tune up your rusty old fiddle!
He dreamed of a land where the lions were tame,
Where they fried their lamb-chops on a griddle,
Where they called all the parrots and monkeys by name—
Oh, play us a tune on your fiddle!
He dreamed of a sea filled with raspberry pop,
With a cocoanut isle in the middle,
Where the stones and the boulders had icing on top—
Go strike up a tune on your fiddle!
He dreamed of a sky where the moonbeams all danced
While a comet was telling a riddle,
Where the stars and the planets and sun-dogs all pranced
While the moon played his fiddle de diddle.
Leroy F. Jackson