Four little youngsters ran out of the mill,
Clambered right merrily over the hill;
Scampered about through the whole afternoon;
Went home at night by the light of the moon.
Foot-sore and weary and sleepy were they;
Slept all the night and the whole of next day.
Blow, breezes, softly blow,
Rock the children to and fro;
Not too hard, and not too high,
Lest they should tumble out and cry.
