. Home songs for little people . ath would follow slavery. THE JSQUIRREL. ONE day a little squirrel lay Wounded within a wood,And Charley thought he d take it home And save it if he could. His care and skill did wondrous work, And I am glad to tell,That very soon, through Charleys care, It grew quite strong and well. Ere long the merry little thing Was sociable and tame ;And being very frolicsome, FRISKY became its name. 100 HOME SONGS. He d spring and gambol round the room, Performing antics droll;Or climb and gravely take his seat Upon the curtain-pole. When, wearied out with all his ptay, H
. Home songs for little people . ath would follow slavery. THE JSQUIRREL. ONE day a little squirrel lay Wounded within a wood,And Charley thought he d take it home And save it if he could. His care and skill did wondrous work, And I am glad to tell,That very soon, through Charleys care, It grew quite strong and well. Ere long the merry little thing Was sociable and tame ;And being very frolicsome, FRISKY became its name. 100 HOME SONGS. He d spring and gambol round the room, Performing antics droll;Or climb and gravely take his seat Upon the curtain-pole. When, wearied out with all his ptay, He felt inclined to sleep,He d gently steal to Charleys side, Then in his pocket creep, P And there curled up so warm and snug He put himself to bed,His nose tucked in between his paws, His tail wound round his head. LET God be thy refuge, Whatever be thy lot;The world may change round thee, But he changes not. Theres a flower in the meadow, A fruit on the tree,And a bright beam of sunshine Still waiting for thee. HOME SONGS. 101. A shines, it rains, then shines again, What does the weather mean ?It hangs in doubt, the sun conies out, With drizzling mists between. Now dark, now light, like day, like night, T is changing, fickle weather ;It mists at times, then rains or shines, And sometimes all together. 9* 102 HOME SONGS. Oh, now I see, it is like me,A wise head and a dunce. I fret, I smile, then cry awhile,And sometimes all at once. I pout, I pet, well pleased I get,Both diligent and lazy ; In my own way is such a day,When rainy, shiny, hazy. THE CROWg. THE crows are building on the trees; They build there every spring; Caw, caw, is all that they can say, For none of them can sing. They re up before the break of day, And up till late at night,For they must labor busily As long as it is light. Caw, caw! Oh, what a noiseThey make in rainy weather ; Good children always speak by turns,But crows all talk together. HOME SONGS. 103 How many nests are on the trees, And
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, booksubjectchildre, bookyear1872
