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W

Now the spring is coming on,

Now the snow and ice are gone,

Come, my little snowdrop root,
Will you not begin to shoot?

Ah! I see your little head
Peeping on my flower-bed,
Looking all so green and gay
On this fine and pleasant day.

For the mild south wind doth blow,
And hath melted all the snow;
And the sun shines out so warm,

You need not fear another storm.

So, your pretty flower shew,

And your petals white undo,
Then you'll hang your modest head
Down upon my flower-bed.

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ITTLE Tommy Tucker, sing for your supper

L'

What shall he eat? White bread and butter.

How shall he cut it without e'er a knife?

How shall he marry without e'er a wife?

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NOSE,

And what gave thee that jolly red nose? Nutmegs and cinnamon, spices and cloves, And they gave me this jolly red nose.

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