The poem
Up into the sky I stare; All the little stars I see; And I know that God is there O, how lonely He must be!
Me, I laugh and leap all day, Till my head begins to nod; He's so great, He cannot play: I am glad I am not God.
Poor kind God upon His throne, Up there in the sky so blue, Always, always all alone . . . "Please, dear God, I pity You."