Lords and knights, I do invite
Ladies and gentlemen,
To come unto the burial
Of my wee brown hen.
My wee brown hen,
They might have let her be,
Every day she laid an egg,
On Sunday she laid three.
SOUTHERN INDIAN SONGS
“Cooing, cooing, cooing dove!
How many little ones have you to love?”
“In my nest—two—three—four—five
Little ones I hatch’d alive.”
“Tell me then, O dove, I pray,
Where are the little ones to-day?”
“On a bough both safe and strong
Left I them an hour long,
I cannot see them now, and know
They have gone to feed the crow.”
“Dusky sister of the crow
Let us to the wedding go,
To-morrow or on Sunday morn;
Though the kite doth sit forlorn,
Seeing in a painful dream
Young ones perish in the stream.
All the young ones of the crow
Cheese are seeking to and fro.”
ESSEX