What would I rather do than this?

Why, something utterly foolish, so:

Play at cards and have four trumps,

Giggle to watch my winnings grow,

Then buy me a silver, silver flute

And drive my neighbors all away

Lying upon the pleasant floor,

Fluting to wooden soldiers all the day.

And when that tired, I'd like to sail

In a paper boat with a torch before

Around the streets and through back yards

And poke long poles in every door.

I know I'd see the neighbors grow

White and shaky, scared and queasy.

Life by rule is so dull and drab,

But being mad is so much more easy.