Dear Spaceman who lives up above,
and sends me down the purest love,
I wonder if, if you have the time,
you'll take a minute, to read my rhyme.
I should hope, that if I phrase it right,
you'll read my prayer, with rhyme so trite.
And you will be so overcome with grief,
you'll send me gifts beyond belief.
The things I NEED are plenty, true.
and with those, you'll come through.
So we will go with things that haunt
the mind, they are, the things I want.
I want for a brand new car,
and to become a movie star.
I ask for huge heaps and piles of money
a life sized chocolate easter bunny.
A palatial sea-side escape,
a pure black satin opera cape,
a golden wheel of moist brie
a swing under a canopy.
I'll need at least a dozen cats.
Champagne wine in wooden vats,
A rowboat and a secretary
a nite-lite for when things get scary.
A cardigan for everyday,
a robot to do as I say.
A swimming pool of jello and
a full time, all night, polka band.
I want three butlers and a maid,
who never expect to get paid.
I would like diamonds, huge in size,
and to be able to hypnotize.
I need a lot of leisure time,
with margaritas full of lime.
So I suppose an island nest,
with a private beach is best.
A jet to take me to Paree
box seats at the symphony.
A Bentley when I'm in Rome,
and another for at home.
But mostly Lord, all I plead for
Is just a tiny little bit more,
of love and luck, and joy and decency
and for some one to print this poetry.