The President himself remained calm and thoughtful. He sat at his desk rolling a small piece of wet chewing-gum between his finger and thumb. He was waiting for the moment when he could flick it at Miss Tibbs without her seeing him. He flicked it and missed Miss Tibbs but hit the Chief of the Air Force on the tip of his nose.

'Do you think the men from Mars have accepted my invitation to the White House?' the President asked.

'Of course they have,' said the Foreign Secretary. 'It was a brilliant speech, sir.'

'They're probably on their way down here right now,' said Miss Tibbs. 'Go and wash that nasty sticky chewing-gum off your fingers quickly. They could be here any minute.'

'Let's have a song first,' said the President. 'Sing another one about me, Nanny … please.'

THE NURSE'S SONG

This mighty man of whom I sing,The greatest of them all,Was once a teeny little thing,Just eighteen inches tall.I knew him as a tiny tot.I nursed him on my knee.I used to sit him on the potAnd wait for him to wee.I always washed between his toes,And cut his little nails.I brushed his hair and wiped his noseAnd weighed him on the scales.Through happy childhood days he strayed,As all nice children should.I smacked him when he disobeyed,And stopped when he was good.It soon began to dawn on meHe wasn't very bright,Because when he was twenty-threeHe couldn't read or write.'What shall we do?' his parents sobbed.'The boy has got the vapours!He couldn't even get a jobDelivering the papers!''Ah-ha,' I said. 'This little clotCould be a politician.''Nanny,' he cried.


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