LITMIR.BIZ

      Oh, Susan Blue,

      How do you do?

      Please may I go for a walk with you?

      Where shall we go?

      Oh, I know—

      Down in the meadow where the cowslips grow!

      Little Blue Shoes

      Mustn't go

      Very far alone, you know

      Else she'll fall down,

      Or, lose her way;

      Fancy—what

      Would mamma say?

      Better put her little hand

      Under sister's wise command.

      When she's a little older grown

      Blue Shoes may go quite alone.

      Puff, puff, puff. How the trumpets blow

      All you little boys and girls come and see the show.

      One—two—three, the Cat runs up the tree;

      But the little Bird he flies away—

      "She hasn't got me!"

      They saw it rise in the morning,

      They saw it set at night,

      And they longed to go and see it,

      Ah! if they only might.

      The little soft white clouds heard them,

      And stepped from out of the blue;

      And each laid a little child softly

      Upon its bosom of dew.

      And they carried them higher and higher,

      And they nothing knew any more

      Until they were standing waiting

      In front of the round gold door.

      And they knocked, and called, and entreated,

      Whoever should be within;

      But all to no purpose, for no one

      Would hearken to let them in.

      You very fine Miss Molly,

      What will the daisies say,

      If you carry home so many

      Of their little friends to-day?

      Perhaps you take a sister,

      Perhaps you take a brother,

      Or two little daisies who

      Were fond of one another.

      Pray let me introduce you to

      This little dancing family;

      For morning, afternoon, and night

      They danced away so happily.

      They twirled round about,

      They turned their toes out;

      The people wondered what the noise

      Could all be about.

      They danced from early morning,

      Till very late at night;

      Both in-doors and out-of-doors,

      With very great delight.

      And every sort of dance they knew,

      From every country far away;

      And so it was no wonder that

      They should keep dancing all the day.

      So dancing—dancing—dancing,

      In sunshine or in rain;

      And when they all left off,

      Why then—they all began again.

      Little Molly and Damon

      Are walking so far,

      For they're going to see

      Their kind Grandmamma.

      And they very well know,

      When they get there she'll take

      From out of her cupboard

      Some very nice cake.

      And into her garden

      They know they may run,

      And pick some red currants,

      And have lots of fun.

      So Damon to doggie

      Says, "How do you do?"

      And asks his mamma

      If he may not go too.

      Oh, if you were a little boy,

      And I was a little girl—

      Why you would have some whiskers grow

      And then my hair would curl.

      Ah! if I could have whiskers grow,

      I'd let you have my curls;

      But what's the use of wishing it—

      Boys never can be girls.

      It is a Party, do you know,

      And there they sit, all in a row,

      Waiting till the others come,

      To begin to have some fun.

      Hark! the bell rings sharp and clear,

      Other little friends appear;

      And no longer all alone

      They begin to feel at home.

      To them a little hard is Fate,

      Yet better early than too late;

      Fancy getting there forlorn,

      With the tea and cake all gone.

      Wonder what they'll have for tea;

      Hope the jam is strawberry.

      Wonder what the dance and game;

      Feel so very glad they came.

      Very Happy may you be,

      May you much enjoy your tea.

      When we went out with Grandmamma—

      Mamma said for a treat—

      Oh, dear, how stiff we had to walk

      As we went down the street.

      One on each side we had to go,

      And never laugh or loll;

      I carried Prim, her Spaniard dog,

      And Tom—her parasol.

      If I looked right—if Tom looked left—

      "Tom—Susan—I'm ashamed;

      And little Prim, I'm sure, is shocked,

      To hear such naughties named."

      She

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