LITTLE white clouds flew east thro' the sky,
The bee, with his honey-sacks, scur-
ried by
En route to his hive with his stolen sweet,
With the gold of roses caught round his feet;
And the farmer's dear little daughter, too,
Came tripping along in her ribbons blue;
And the sweet little girl had a silver tongue,
And she sang, as she came, a sweet little song:
"At Whitehall waited the Prince's boat;