[Transcriber's Note: You can play this music (MIDI file) by clicking [here].]
| Now the snows are melting, going, Now the little streams are flowing; Buds are swelling, birds are singing, Odors sweet the wind is bringing; Quack, quack, quack, quack, quack! Good soft mud and running water, Now waddlers shall not lack. | Little girls and boys are straying, Or in sunny meadows playing, Seeking buttercups and clover, While their hearts with joy run over; But—what goose can't see it plainly?— Spring for us is given mainly. Quack, quack, &c. |
Transcriber's Note:
This issue was part of an omnibus. The original text for this issue did not include a title page or table of contents. This was taken from the January issue with the "No." added. The original table of contents covered the entire year of 1873. The remaining text of the table of contents can be found in the rest of the year's issues.
The remaining correction made is indicated by a dotted lines under the correction. Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text will appear.