Part 25 (1/2)
Timothy Tiggs and Tomothy Toggs, They both went a-fis.h.i.+ng for pollothywogs; They both went a-fis.h.i.+ng Because they were wis.h.i.+ng To see how the creatures would turn into frogs.
Timothy Tiggs and Tomothy Toggs, They both got stuck in the bogothybogs; They caught a small minnow, And said 'twas a sin oh!
That things with no legs should pretend to be frogs.
LADY'S SLIPPER.
My lady she rose from her bower, her bower, All under the linden tree.
'Twas midnight past, and the fairies' hour, And up and away must she.
She's pulled on her slippers of golden yellow, Her mantle of gossamer green; And she's away to the elfin court, To wait on the elfin queen.
Oh hone! my lady's slipper, Oh hey! my lady's shoe.
She's lost its fellow, so golden yellow, A-tripping it over the dew.
And now she flitted, and now she stepped, Through dells of the woodland deep, Where owls were flying awake, awake, And birds were sitting asleep.
And now she flitted, and now she trod, Where the mist hung shadowy-white; And the river lay gleaming, sleeping, dreaming, Under the sweet moonlight.
Oh hone! my lady's slipper, Oh hey! my lady's shoe.
She's lost its fellow, so golden yellow, A-tripping it over the dew.
And now she pa.s.sed through the wild marsh-land, Where the marsh-elves lay asleep; And a heron blue was their watchman true, Good watch and ward for to keep.
But Jack-in-the-Pulpit was wake, awake, And saw my lady gay; And he reached his hand as she fluttered past, And caught her slipper away.
Oh hone! my lady's slipper, Oh hey! my lady's shoe.
She's lost its fellow, so golden yellow, A-tripping it over the dew.
Oh! long that lady she searched and prayed, And long she wept and besought; But all would not do, and with one wee shoe She must dance at the elfin court.
But she _might_ have found her slipper, her slipper, It shone so golden-gay; For I am no elf, yet I found it myself, And I brought it home to-day.
Oh hone! my lady's slipper, Oh hey! my lady's shoe.
She's lost its fellow, so golden yellow, A-tripping it over the dew.
A LITTLE SONG TO SING TO A LITTLE MAID IN A SWING.
If I were a fairy king, (Swinging high, swinging low,) I would give to you a ring, (Swinging oh!) With a diamond set so bright That the s.h.i.+ning of its light Should make morning of the night, (Swinging high, swinging low,) Should make morning of the night.
(Swinging oh!)
On each ringlet as it fell (Swinging high, swinging low,) I would tie a golden bell; (Swinging oh!) And the golden bells would chime In a little merry rhyme, In the merry summer-time,-- (Swinging high, swinging low,) In the happy summer-time.