LITMIR.BIZ

      Published by Good Press, 2019

       [email protected]

      EAN 4064066201524

Table of Contents

       A SONG OF SIX-PENCE.

       PAYING BACK.

       THE GENEROUS CLOVER.

       WHERE THEY GROW.

       BA-BY FAY FERN-Y.

       THE DOUGH-DOG.

       THE LION’S O-PIN-ION OF HIM-SELF.

       WHICH IS TALL-EST.

       THE ANX-IOUS DOG-GY.

       NINE LITTLE BIRDIES.

       WHAT BA-BY DID.

       TWO KIND LIT-TLE GIRLS.

       AN APRIL RAIN.

       WHAT THE GRASSES SAID.

       TAB-BY’S LULL-A-BY.

       SOME NAUGHTY I’S.

       AT BREAK-FAST.

       BA-BY DIM-PLE AT BREAK-FAST.

       NOBODY KNOWS.

       THE LOST CHICKENS.

       LIKE BABY.

       HOW THE BABY WAS NAMED.

       THE WINDOW-PANE TREE.

       BIRDS IN WINTER.

       THREE TRAVELLERS.

       A TALE OF A BOT-TLE.

       A WONDERFUL SCHOLAR.

       OUT IN THE MEADOW.

A SONG OF SIX-PENCE.

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      Sing a song, a brand new song:

      “Sing a song of six-pence,

      A pock-et full of rye.”

      John and Jim-my both picked some,

      So they could have a pie.

      And when they’d filled their pock-ets full,

      Down in the field of rye,

      They found some cun-ning lit-tle birds,

      To put in-to the pie.

      Six pret-ty lit-tle hid-den nests,

      Down in the yel-low rye,

      Held four-and-twen-ty ba-by birds,

      E-nough to fill the pie.

      They set them all with-in the dish,

      Lined with a crust of rye;

      But soon the four-and-twen-ty birds

      Cried out in-side the pie.

      Then Jim-my turned and looked at John,

      And John took up the pie,

      And back the lit-tle lad-dies went

      In-to the field of rye.

      The moth-er bird flew up and shrieked,

      “O, have you baked that pie?

      How can you bring the cru-el dish,

      And eat it in the rye!” John—

      And soon they ate the pie;

      The birds flew out and found their nests

      Down in the yel-low rye.

PAYING BACK.

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      Seven happy little chicks walked out one day in June,

      Thought they would enjoy the way by starting up a tune;

      Seven ugly little ducks, whose names I will not mention,

      Made up their minds to follow them, and spoil their good intention;

      Now everybody knows that a duckling’s voice is deep,

      And everybody knows that quack will make more noise than peep.

      So when they found their music drowned, these plucky little chicks

      Made up their minds to cure these ducks of all such naughty tricks;

      So they chased them from the barn-yard, on this pleasant day in June,

      Then started on their walk again, and went on with their tune.

      —J. S.

THE GENEROUS CLOVER.

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