Some in the reeds Of the black mountain-lake, With frogs for their watch-dogs, All night awake. High on the hill-top The old king sits; He is now so old and gray From Slieveleague to Rosses; Or going up with music, Το sup with the Queen Of the gay Northern Lights. They stole little Bridget For seven years long; When she came down again, Her friends were all gone. They took her lightly back, Between the night and morrow; They thought that she was fast asleep, But she was dead with sorrow. They have kept her ever since Deep within the lakes, On a bed of flag leaves, Watching till she wakes. By the craggy hillside, As dig one up in spite? Up the airy mountain, Down the rushy glen, We daren't go a-hunting, For fear of little men; Wee folk, good folk, Trooping all together; Green jacket, red cap, And white owl's feather! -William Allingham THE CLOCKING HEN "WILL you take a walk with me, My little wife, to-day? There's barley in the barley-field, "Thank you," said the clocking hen; "I've something else to do; I'm busy sitting on my eggs, "Clock, clock, clock, clock," Said the clocking hen; My little chicks will soon be hatched, The clocking hen sat on her nest, She made it in the hay; And warm and snug beneath her breast, Crack, crack, went all the eggs, Out dropped the chickens small! "Come along, my little chicks, "Cock-a-doodle-do!" -Aunt Effie's Rhymes THE CHILDREN IN THE WOOD Now ponder well, you parents dear, NOW These words which I shall write; A doleful story you shall hear, In time brought forth to light. A gentleman of good account Sore sick he was, and like to die, No love between these two was lost, In love they lived, in love they died, The one a fine and pretty boy, The father left his little son, As plainly did appear, When he to perfect age should come, And to his little daughter Jane But if the children chance to die "Now, brother," said the dying man, Be good unto my boy and girl, "To God and you I recommend |