Part 23 (2/2)

Here come the bridesmaids, by two and by two; Gay little Primrose, fair little Snowdrop, Peachblossom, Jasmine, and Eglantine too.

Last come the lovers, wrapped up in each other, Thinking of love, and of little beside.

Blue-bell, bonny bell, ring for the wedding!

Health and long life to the beautiful bride!

SWING SONG.

As I swing, as I swing, Here beneath my mother's wing, Here beneath my mother's arm, Never earthly thing can harm.

Up and down, to and fro, With a steady sweep I go, Like a swallow on the wing, As I swing, as I swing.

As I swing, as I swing, Honey-bee comes murmuring, Humming softly in my ear, ”Come away with me, my dear!

In the tiger-lily's cup Sweetest honey we will sup.”

Go away, you velvet thing!

I must swing! I must swing!

As I swing, as I swing, b.u.t.terfly comes fluttering, ”Little child, now come away 'Mid the clover-blooms to play; Clover-blooms are red and white, Sky is blue, and sun is bright.

Why then thus, with folded wing, Sit and swing, sit and swing?”

As I swing, as I swing, Oriole comes hovering.

”See my nest in yonder tree!

Little child, come work with me.

Learn to make a perfect nest, That of all things is the best.

Come! nor longer loitering Sit and swing, sit and swing!”

As I swing, as I swing, Though I have not any wing, Still I would not change with you, Happiest bird that ever flew.

b.u.t.terfly and honey-bee, Sure 'tis you must envy me, Safe beneath my mother's wing As I swing, as I swing.

THE LITTLE COSSACK.

The tale of the little Cossack, Who lived by the river Don: He sat on a sea-green ha.s.sock, And his grandfather's name was John.

His grandfather's name was John, my dears, And he lived upon bottled stout; And when he was found to be not at home, He was frequently found to be out.

The tale of the little Cossack,-- He sat by the river-side, And wept when he heard the people say That his hair was probably dyed.

That his hair was probably dyed, my dears, And his teeth were undoubtedly sham; ”If this be true,” quoth the little Cossack, ”What a poor little thing I am!”

The tale of the little Cossack,-- He sat by the river's brim, And he looked at the little fishes, And the fishes looked back at him.

The fishes looked back at him, my dears, And winked at him, which was wuss; ”If this be true, my friend,” they said, ”You'd better come down to us.”

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