While for music came the play

Of the pied frogs’ orchestra;

And, to light the noisy choir,

Lit the fly his lamp of fire.

I was monarch; pomp and joy

Waited on the barefoot boy!

Cheerily, then, my little man!

Live and laugh as boyhood can;

Though the flinty slopes be hard,

Stubble-speared the new-mown sward,