In a drowsy, soft refrain.
Ticker, tacker, on the leaves,
Dripping, dripping, from the eaves.
Tinkle, tinkle, on the pane,
Rings the wind-blown summer rain.
Pretty soon, Uncle Lucky fell asleep and when he woke up, Mr. Merry Sun was shining and Daddy Longlegs had gone.
“Oh, dear and oh, dear!” sighed dear Uncle Lucky, taking out his gold watch and chain, “I wonder what time it is.”
Then he sighed again and looked out of the window. But the postman wasn’t in sight, only the Old Red Rooster raking up the leaves.
“Well, well, well!” sighed lonely Uncle Lucky, for the third time, “what shall I do?”
“Sing a song,” suggested Little Miss Mousie, peeking out of her small front door in the far corner of the sitting room.