LESSON LXVI.
ALICE'S SUPPER.
- Far down in the valley the wheat grows deep,
And the reapers are making the cradles sweep;
And this is the song that I hear them sing,
While cheery and loud their voices ring:
"'Tis the finest wheat that ever did grow!
And it is for Alice's supper—ho! ho!" - Far down by the river the old mill stands,
And the miller is rubbing his dusty hands;
And these are the words of the miller's lay,
As he watches the millstones grinding away:
"'Tis the finest flour that money can buy,
And it is for Alice's supper—hi! hi!" - Downstairs in the kitchen the fire doth glow,
And cook is a-kneading the soft, white dough;
And this is the song she is singing to-day,
As merry and busy she's working away:
"'Tis the finest dough, whether near or afar,
And it is for Alice's supper—ha! ha!"
- To the nursery now comes mother, at last,
And what in her hand is she bringing so fast?
'Tis a plateful of something, all yellow and white,
And she sings as she comes, with her smile so bright:
"'Tis the best bread and butter I ever did see,
And it is for Alice's supper—he! he!"