The summer is coming—hurrah!
Old winter has gone for good.
The summer is coming—hurrah! hurrah!
The birdies are in the wood.
The chickens are coming—hurrah!
Hear how the old hen clucks:
The chickens are coming—hurrah! hurrah!
And the queer little turkeys and ducks.
The tad-poles are coming—hurrah!
With their comical, wriggling tails:
The tad-poles are coming—hurrah! hurrah!
Like little mites of whales.
The crickets are coming—hurrah!
And katydids always so funny:
And fire-flies too—hurrah! hurrah!
And bumble-bees laden with honey.
The ant-hills are coming—hurrah!
What fun to see them rise:
The ant-hills are coming—hurrah! hurrah!
They're growing before our eyes.
The daisies are coming—hurrah!
We'll weave them in many a chain:
The daisies are coming—hurrah! hurrah!
The daisies are coming again!
The cherries are coming—hurrah!
And apples and peaches and plums:
The fruit is a-coming—hurrah! hurrah!
We'll feast on it when it comes.
The swallows are coming—hurrah!
There'll be lots of birds in the sky;
The swallows are coming—hurrah! hurrah!
We'll whoop at them as they fly.
The corn-fields are coming—hurrah!
So green and waving and high:
The corn-fields are coming—hurrah! hurrah!
We'll hide in them by-and-by.
The summer is coming—hurrah!
We can bathe and swim and dive:
The summer is coming—hurrah! hurrah!
Oh! it's jolly to be alive!
It's jolly to live—hurrah!
Let us all be good and glad:
It's the grandest world—hurrah! hurrah!
That ever we children have had.
————————
LITTLE WHIMPY.
Whimpy, little Whimpy
Cried so hard one day,
His Grandma couldn't stand it,
And his mother ran away;
His sister climbed the hay-mow,
His father went to town,
And cook flew to the neighbor's,
In her shabby, kitchen gown.
Whimpy, little Whimpy
Stood out in the sun
And cried until the chickens
And ducks began to run;
Old Towser in his kennel
Growled in an angry tone;
Then burst his chain, and Whimpy
Was left there, all alone.
Whimpy, little Whimpy
Cried, and cried, and cried;
Soon the sunlight vanished,
Flowers began to hide,
Birdies ceased their singing,
Frogs began to croak,
Darkness came; and Whimpy
Found crying was no joke.
Whimpy, little Whimpy,
Never'll forget the day
When his Grandma couldn't stand it,
And his mother ran away;
He was waiting by the window
When they all came home to tea—
And a gladder boy than Whimpy
You never need hope to see.