The Story of a Different Pond

High upon a desert dune, On a hot and hazy Texas noon, A little boy of 2 or 3 Rubbed his eyes to be sand free. No ponds or water could be found, In this dusty and dreary town, Til rattling up some streetcar tracks, A cart and horse sounded clack clack, And with that a blow-up pool came down, Cooling that boy in that sandy town The driver like Santa filled that blow-up pond, The boy splashed in and squealed along. That is not the end of my song, For that man dug a hole and sunk that pond, A pond where goldfish to this day play, In the desert, in the sun, on a bed of hot clay.