And people’s hats, to their great chagrin,
I snatch and send on a whirling spin;
Then, hiding in chimneys, laugh Ho, ho!
Oh, what a practical joker I am!
Or, rocking the tree-tops to and fro,
I climb aloft like a harlequin
To play my pranks on the world below.
Stout timbers creak when ice-flows jam
From sea to harbour where ships come in;
And flood and freshet their foam-wreaths throw,