The little vase of amethyst;
And round it birds were singing.
And now the little boy comes out
To see his vine. He gives a shout,
And sings and laughs, and jumps about
Like one two-thirds demented.
His little playmates, one, two, three,
Come round the beauteous vine to see,
And each cries, "Give a flower to me,
And I'll go off contented."