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MARCHING SONG

ORING the comb and play upon it!
Marching, here we come!

Willie cocks his highland bonnet,
Johnnie beats the drum.

Mary Jane commands the party,

Peter leads the rear;

Feet in time, alert and hearty,
Each a Grenadier!

All in the most martial manner
Marching double-quick;
While the napkin like a banner
Waves upon the stick!

Here's enough of fame and pillage,

Great commander Jane!

Now that we've been round the village, Let's go home again.

ΤΗ

THE COW

HE friendly cow all red and white,
I love with all my heart:

She gives me cream with all her might,
To eat with apple-tart.

She wanders lowing here and there,

And yet she cannot stray,

All in the pleasant open air,

The pleasant light of day;

And blown by all the winds that pass
And wet with all the showers,
She walks among the meadow grass
And eats the meadow flowers.

HAPPY THOUGHT

HE world is so full of a number of

THE

things,

I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings.

THE WIND

I sky;

SAW you toss the kites on high

And all around I heard you pass,
Like ladies' skirts across the grass
O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!

I saw the different things you did,
But always you yourself you hid.
I felt you push, I heard you call,
I could not see yourself at all

O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!

O you that are so strong and cold,
O blower, are you young or old?
Are you a beast of field and tree,
Or just a stronger child than me?
O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!

KEEPSAKE MILL

VER the borders, a sin without pardon,
Breaking the branches and crawling

below,

Out through the breach in the wall of the garden,

Down by the banks of the river, we go.

Here is the mill with the humming of thunder,

Here is the weir with the wonder of foam, Here is the sluice with the race running under

Marvellous places, though handy to home!

Sounds of the village grow stiller and stiller, Stiller the note of the birds on the hill; Dusty and dim are the eyes of the miller, Deaf are his ears with the moil of the mill.

Years may go by, and the wheel in the river

Wheel as it wheels for us, children, to-day, Wheel and keep roaring and foaming for

ever

Long after all of the boys are away.

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