You can seek them for food When the weather is fair, And chirp your sweet songs In the clear pleasant air.
Three funny little travellers Set out to leave the town; And all they wore to keep them warm Was one white, ruffled gown.
I asked these little travellers If far they meant to roam. “Oh, no,” they all together said; “We’ll not go far from home.”
The first brave one who started out Was our sweet Baby May; She said, “I’m going to By-lo-Land,” In such a sleepy way.
The second one, in gown of white, Was Alice, six years old; She said, “I go to Shutty-eye-town,” And on she went, both fast and bold.
And Lottie, eldest one of all, Said, “On this road I plod, To 76, Old Blanket street, Bedfordshire, the Land of Nod.”
I wondered where these towns could be, When mamma softly said, “Good night, good night, my children dear! Now hurry off to _bed_!” --_J. S._
A bot-tle of ink on the ta-ble, A lit-tle girl on the floor-- And now I don’t think I’ll be a-ble To tell you an-y-thing more.
The lit-tle girl up to the ta-ble, Mam-ma look-ing in at the door-- And now I don’t think I’ll be a-ble To tell you an-y-thing more.
The lit-tle girl runs from the ta-ble, Bot-tle rolls down to the floor-- And now I don’t think I’ll be a-ble To tell you an-y-thing more.
Then mam-ma runs up to the ta-ble, Lit-tle girl runs for the door-- And now I don’t think I’ll be a-ble To tell you an-y-thing more.
Mam-ma runs a-way from the ta-ble, And catch-es the girl at the door-- And now, oh! I _know_ I’m not a-ble To tell you an-y-thing more.
O, a wonderful scholar Is our little Kate! She reads in a primer; She writes on a slate; Her lines are not even; Her O’s are not round; And her words in the reader Could not be found.
Her sewing--what puckers! What stitches! what knots! And along the whole hem, There are tiny red spots. Her weekly reports Tell how oft she has spoken; And there’s not a rule That she never has broken.
Yet she comes to mamma For a smile and a kiss, As if a “bad mark,” Should be paid for by this.
And she cries in delight, While she swings round her hat: “I’m a wonderful scholar, For I can spell ‘cat!’ C-A-T, _Cat_!” --_K. L._
What do you think I saw to-day Out in the meadow bright, It tripped along on four little feet In a coat all woolly and white;