who knows if the moon's a balloon,coming out of a keen city in the sky--filled with pretty people? (and if you and i shouldget into it,if they should take me and take you into their balloon, why then we'd go up higher with all the pretty peoplethan houses and steeples and clouds: go sailing away and away sailing into a keen city which nobody's ever visited,wherealways it's Spring)and everyone's in love and flowers pick themselves
Grandma