He always comes on market days
And holds balloons a lovely bunch
And in the market square he stays
And never seems to think of lunch.
They’ are red and purple, blue and green,
And when it is a sunny day
Tho’ carts and people get between
You see them shining far away
And some aer big and some are small
All tied together with a string
And if there is a wind at all
They tug and like anything.
Some day perhaps he’ll let them go
And we shall see them sailing high
And stand and watch them from below
They would look pretty in the sky.