When the wind is in the East,
'Tis neither good for man nor beast;
When the wind is in the North,
The skilful fisher goes not forth;
When the wind is in the South,
It blows the bait in the fishes' mouth;
When the wind is in the West,
Then 'tis at the very best.
Cry, baby, cry,
Put your finger in your eye,
And tell your mother it wasn't I.
THE TURTLE-DOVE'S NEST.
Very high in the pine-tree,
The little Turtle-dove
Made a pretty little nursery,
To please her little love.
She was gentle, she was soft,
And her large dark eye
Often turned to her mate,
Who was sitting close by.
"Coo," said the Turtle-dove,
"Coo," said she;
"Oh, I love thee," said the Turtle-dove.
"And I love THEE."
In the long shady branches
Of the dark pine-tree,
How happy were the Doves
In their little nursery!
The young Turtle-doves
Never quarrelled in the nest;
For they dearly loved each other,
Though they loved their mother best.
"Coo," said the little Doves.
"Coo," said she.
And they played together kindly
In the dark pine-tree.
In this nursery of yours,
Little sister, little brother,
Like the Turtle-dove's nest—
Do you love one another?
Are you kind, are you gentle,
As children ought to be?
Then the happiest of nests
Is your own nursery.