is not out of place here. It evidences a state of mythologic thought.
"Ladybird! ladybird! pretty one, stay!
Come, sit on my finger, so happy and gay.
Ladybird! ladybird! fly away home,
Thy house is a-fire, thy children will roam.
Then ladybird! ladybird! fly away home.
Hark! hark! to thy children bewailing."
Yearly, as these harvest bugs, with their crimson or golden-coloured shields, appear in our country lanes, the village youngsters delight in capturing them, and play a game similar to the German child's. They sing—
"Ladybird! ladybird! fly away home,
Your house is on fire, your children will roam,
Excepting the youngest, and her name is Ann,
And she has crept under the dripping-pan."
FOOTNOTES:
"εἱς ὁ πατήρ, παῖδες δὲ δυώδεκα· τῶν δέ γ' ἑκάστῳ
παῖδες ἔασι τριήκοντ' ἄνδιχα εἶδος ἔχουσαι·
Ἡι μὲν λευκαὶ ἔασιν ἰδειν· ἧ δ' αὖτε μέλαιναι
Ἀθάνατοι δέ τ' ἐοῦσαι αποφθίνουσιν ἅπασαι."