Every evening Baby goes
—Trot, trot, to town,
Across the river, through the fields,
—Up hill and down.

Trot, trot, the Baby goes,
—Up hill and down,
To buy a feather for her hat,
—To buy a woolen gown.

Trot, trot, the Baby goes;
—The birds fly down, alack!
“You cannot have our feathers, dear,”
—They say, “so please trot back.”

Trot, trot, the Baby goes;
—The lambs come bleating near.
“You cannot have our wool,” they say,
—“But we are sorry, dear.”

Trot, trot, the Baby goes,
—Trot, trot, to town;
She buys a red rose for her hat,
—She buys a cotton gown.