My dear, don't you know

How, a long time ago,

Two poor little children, Whose names I don't know,

Were stolen away

On a fine summer's day,

And left in a wood,
As I've heard people say?

And when it was night,
So sad was their plight;

The sun it went down,
And the moon gave no light;
They sobbed, and they sighed,
And they bitterly cried,

THE BABES IN THE WOOD.

And the poor little things They lay down and died.

And when they were dead,
The robins so red

Brought strawberry leaves,
And over them spread:
And all the day long

They sang them this song-
"Poor babes in the wood,
Poor babes in the wood;"
And don't you remember
The babes in the wood?

67

I'LL sing you a song,

The days are long;

The woodcock and the sparrow;

The little dog he has burned his tail,
And he must be hanged to-morrow.

WRANGHAM BELLS.

SWING 'em, swang 'em, bells at Wrangham,
Three dogs in a string, hang 'em, hang 'em.

From "Rhymes for the Nursery," by A. J. Taylor and others. WINKLE, twinkle, little star,

Then

How I wonder what you are!
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.

When the blazing sun is gone,
When he nothing shines upon,
you show your little light,

Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.

Then the traveller in the dark,
Thanks you for your tiny spark;

He could not see which way

to go,

If

did not twinkle so.

you

In the dark blue sky you keep,

And often through my curtains peep;

As your bright and tiny spark Lights the traveller in the dark; Though I know not what you are, Twinkle, twinkle, little star.