The Boy Who Wouldn’t Stop Bouncing On His Bed

Every day and every night the boy jumped on his bed.

“I can jump higher than my teacher’s head” he said

“Higher than the ceiling here I go.”

His mother, coming in, saw just his foot and toe,

The last of him, through the window to go.

“Come back” cried his mother, her voice full of woe.

On and on the boy sped on

Up and up to the moon that shone

The first boy to go to the moon, from his bed, was gone.