A willow tree was swinging.
My brother Ben was very ’cute,
He climbed that willow tree,
He cut a branch, and I was mute,
The while, with ecstasy.
With penknife he did cut it round,
And gave the bark a wring;
He shaped the mouth and tried the sound,—
It was a glorious thing!
I blew that whistle, full of joy—