Chimney Sweeps' Day, Blackbird is gay,
Here he is singing, you see, in the "May."
He has feathers as black as a chimney sweep's coat,
So on Chimney Sweeps' Day he must pipe a glad note.
Jack-in-the-Green from door to door
Capers along with his followers four.
As May Day mummers are seldom seen,
Let us all give a copper to Jack-in-the-Green.
Chimney Sweeps' Day, Blackbird is gay,
Here he is singing, you see, in the "May."
He has feathers as black as a chimney sweep's coat,
So on Chimney Sweeps' Day he must pipe a glad note.
Jack-in-the-Green from door to door
Capers along with his followers four.
As May Day mummers are seldom seen,
Let us all give a copper to Jack-in-the-Green.

[[19]]

What a countrified scene we have here!
Who would think London Town was so near,
That its murmur comes borne on the breeze
To the listener under the trees?
To this spot, to buy biscuits or buns,
Each city child joyously runs.
But the Park's greatest treat, they all vow,
Is a glass of new milk from the cow.
What a countrified scene we have here!
Who would think London Town was so near,
That its murmur comes borne on the breeze
To the listener under the trees?
To this spot, to buy biscuits or buns,
Each city child joyously runs.
But the Park's greatest treat, they all vow,
Is a glass of new milk from the cow.

[[20]]

Cried the drake to the ducks, "Here's a boy with a bun,
Come, make haste! we shall have quite a feast!"
"Would you mind," said a swan, "if we shared in the fun?"
"O dear no!" said he; "not in the least!"
It was surely through fear, not politeness at all,
That the drake made so civil a speech,
For that one penny bun, after all, was so small,
There was hardly a mouthful for each!
From the ducks and the swans on the lake, to next page—
A much quieter scene—you may pass:
Though Westminster Cloisters are hoary with age,
Yet green is their velvety grass,
And cheerily bright are their gables and peaks,
As they glow in the westering sun:
'Tis some house in the Cloisters yon schoolboy seeks—
Don't you wonder, now, which is the one?
Cried the drake to the ducks, "Here's a boy with a bun,
Come, make haste! we shall have quite a feast!"
"Would you mind," said a swan, "if we shared in the fun?"
"O dear no!" said he; "not in the least!"
It was surely through fear, not politeness at all,
That the drake made so civil a speech,
For that one penny bun, after all, was so small,
There was hardly a mouthful for each!
From the ducks and the swans on the lake, to next page—
A much quieter scene—you may pass:
Though Westminster Cloisters are hoary with age,
Yet green is their velvety grass,
And cheerily bright are their gables and peaks,
As they glow in the westering sun:
'Tis some house in the Cloisters yon schoolboy seeks—
Don't you wonder, now, which is the one?

[[21]]

[[22]]

In all the land
A pile so grand
Is scarcely found
As this. Around
Its old grey walls
The shadow falls
Of bygone years,
And so one fears
To raise one's tone,
When one is shown
Some ancient tomb,
Half hid in gloom.
Beneath such stones
There rest the bones
Of monarchs bold,
Whose story's told
For you and me
In history.
In all the land
A pile so grand
Is scarcely found
As this. Around
Its old grey walls
The shadow falls
Of bygone years,
And so one fears
To raise one's tone,
When one is shown
Some ancient tomb,
Half hid in gloom.
Beneath such stones
There rest the bones
Of monarchs bold,
Whose story's told
For you and me
In history.