Little boy Blue, awake, awake,
And see how merry your charges make!
Through field and garden their course they steer,
And the mischief they’re doing,—oh dear, oh dear!
Hurry it, hurry it, baker’s man;
Bring it to us as quick as you can.
I hope it has raisins by way of surprise,
And little black currants that look just like eyes.
Here it comes, here it comes, baby mine.
Never was cake that was half so fine;
Brown as a berry, and hot from the pan,—
Thank you, oh thank you, you good baker’s man!
