TWO little chick-a-dees peeping just for fun,
A hungry Kite caught one, then there was but ONE.
ONE little chick-a-dee, mourning all alone,
Flew away to find a mate, and then there was NONE,
HEIGH-HO, DAISIES AND BUTTER-CUPS.
HEIGH-HO, daisies and butter-cups
Grow in the meadows for children to gather;
But cattle will shun them,
And farmers will burn them,
Because in their fields they are only a bother.
Heigh-ho, red-top and clover-bloom,
Filling the air with their sweetness and beauty,
Will yield without measure,
Their wealth of rich treasure,
Rewarding the farmer for doing his duty.
