I went to the biscuit barrel and the biscuit barrel was bare,
I went to find my Teddy but Teddy wasn't there.
Someone else had been there first, probably dear mother of mine,
So I vowed not to let her beat me, to my destination next time.
I thought long and hard about where to go,
It had to be somewhere she wouldn't know.
Under my bed, the garden shed, the old play pen, my secret den?
All too obvious she would guess my plan,
It had to be somewhere closer to hand.
An afternoon nap, a dream instead,
A safe retreat inside my head!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Tactful on your part doing the nap... its only the place where mother can not intrude! A 10.