The Top and the Ball

I was made, so they say
In the burgomaster’s shop
By whom else but the mayor
I’m one important top
Do I know you? she said
For I do not speak with all
I’ve got cork in my head
I am one beautiful ball!
Can’t we be sweethearts?
No, I don’t think so
Shan’t we be sweethearts?
No
There are reasons why we
Will not tootle together
You were made from some tree
Me of african leather
And besides, there’s a swallow
Who always says, «I will!»
There’s a promise, or almost
And your chances are nil
We can’t be sweethearts
About that swallow…
We shan’t be sweethearts
Oh
Soon the ball disappears
She just bounced off somewhere
Then the top, after years
Spins away into thin air
When they meet in the gutter
She’s droopy, old, and wet
Though her heart’s all aflutter
He’s sure they haven’t met
Were we old sweethearts?
No, I don’t think so
Sure we weren’t sweethearts?
No!
In the garbage, old friends
Look even older
In the garbage, even old friends
Get the cold shoulder
Can’t we be sweethearts?