The little Robin grieves When the snow is on the ground, For the trees have no leaves, And no berries can be found. The air is cold, the worms are hid, For Robin here what can be done? Let's strow around some crums of bread, And then he'll live till snow is gone. Little Jack Nory Told me a story How he tried Cock-horse to ride, Sword and scabbard by his side, Saddle, leaden spurs and switches, His pocket tight With cents all bright, Marbles, tops, puzzles props, Now he's put in jacket and breeches. There were two blackbirds sitting on a hil., Come again, Jack,-come again, Jill. The little Robin grieves When the snow is on the ground, For the trees have no leaves, And no berries can be found. The air is cold, the worms are hid, Little Jack Nory Told me a story How he tried Cock-horse to ride, Sword and scabbard by his side, Saddle, leaden spurs and switches, His pocket tight With cents all bright, Marbles, tops, puzzles props, Now he's put in jacket and breeches. There were two blackbirds sitting on a hil., Come again, Jack,—come again, Jill. 92 26 Willie boy, Willie boy, I'm going to the meadow, Wee Willie Winkie runs through the town, "Are the babes in their beds, for it's now ten o'clock? |