When Aunt Jan’s dancing we all watch her as she goes,
With in-and-out and round-about upon her shiny toes;
And when her merry breath is tired she stops the fun and stands
To curtsy saucily to us, or kiss her pretty hands.
When Aunt Jan’s playing, the piano seems alive,
With all the notes as busy as the bees are in a hive;
And when it’s time for Bedfordshire, as sweetly as a lark
She sings that God is waiting to protect us in the dark.
When Aunt Jan’s leaving we are not ashamed to cry,
A-kissing at the station and a-waving her good-by;
But springtime brings the crocus after winter, rain and frost
So dear Aunt Jan will come again. She isn’t really lost.
AFTER TEA
Very often in the evening,
Shortly after tea,
Father, when he’s read the paper,
Takes me on his knee.
There I fix myself “quite comfy,”
In his arms so strong,
While he makes up lovely stories
As he goes along.
Mother near us with her sewing,
Rocking to and fro,
Smiles and listens to the stories,
Likes them too, I know.