THE SWING
Merry it is on a summer’s day
All through the meadows to wend away,
To watch the brooks glide fast or slow,
And the little fish twinkle down below;
To hear the lark in the blue sky sing;
Oh, sure enough, ’tis a merry thing,
But ’tis merrier far to swing, to swing!
Down with the hoop upon the green,
Down with the ringing tambourine;