Part 2

A SONG FOR TWO CHILDREN.

"Make a song, father, a new little song, All for Jenny and Nancy." Balow lalow or Hey derry down, Or else what might you fancy?

Is there any song sweet enough For Nancy and for Jenny? Said Simple Simon to the pieman, "Indeed I know not any."

"I've counted the miles to Babylon, I've flown the earth like a bird, I've ridden cock-horse to Banbury Cross, But no such song have I heard."

"Some speak of Alexander, And some of Hercules, But where are there any like Nancy and Jenny, Where are there any like these?"

DICKY.

Mother

Oh, what a heavy sigh! Dicky, are you ailing?

Dicky

Even by this fireside, mother, My heart is failing.

To-night across the down, Whistling and jolly, I sauntered out from town With my stick of holly.

Bounteous and cool from sea The wind was blowing, Cloud shadows under the moon Coming and going.

I sang old roaring songs, Ran and leaped quick, And turned home by St. Swithin's Twirling my stick.

And there as I was passing The churchyard gate An old man stopped me, "Dicky, You're walking late."

I did not know the man, I grew afeared At his lean lolling jaw, His spreading beard.

His garments old and musty, Of antique cut, His body very lean and bony, His eyes tight shut.

Oh, even to tell it now My courage ebbs... His face was clay, mother, His beard, cobwebs.

In that long horrid pause "Good-night," he said, Entered and clicked the gate, "Each to his bed."

Mother

Do not sigh or fear, Dicky, How is it right To grudge the dead their ghostly dark And wan moonlight?

We have the glorious sun, Lamp and fireside. Grudge not the dead their moonshine When abroad they ride.

THE THREE DRINKERS.

Blacksmith Green had three strong sons, With bread and beef did fill 'em, Now John and Ned are perished and dead, But plenty remains of William.

John Green was a whiskey drinker, The Land of Cakes supplied him, Till at last his soul flew out by the hole That the fierce drink burned inside him.

Ned Green was a water drinker, And, Lord, how Ned would fuddle! He rotted away his mortal clay Like an old boot thrown in a puddle.

Will Green was a wise young drinker, Shrank from whiskey or water, But he made good cheer with headstrong beer, And married an alderman's daughter.

THE BOY OUT OF CHURCH.

As Jesus and his followers Upon a Sabbath morn Were walking by a wheat field They plucked the ears of corn.