Round about, round about,
Maggotty pie;
My father loves good ale,

Roses, roses, roses,
Creamy, fragrant, dewy!
See the rainbow shower!
Was there e'er so sweet a flower?
I'm the rose-nymph, June they call me.
Sunset's blush is not more fair
Than the gift of bloom so rare,
Mortal, that I bring to thee!

Rose, on this terrace fifty years ago,
When I was in my June, you in your May,
Two words, " My Rose" set all your face aglow,
And now that I am white, and you are gray,
That blush of fifty years ago, my dear,
Blooms in the Past, but close to me today
As this red rose, which on our terrace here
Glows in the blue of fifty miles away.

The rose and gold and violet
Were fairest when the sun had set;
So when life's noblest battle's won,
Peace comes at setting of the sun.

The rooks are alive
On the tops of the trees;
They look like a hive
Of jolly black bees;
They all squawk together,
And loud is their squawking —
It must be the weather
That sets them a-talking.

There was an Old Person of Spain,
Who hated all trouble and pain;
So he sat on a chair, with his feet in the air,
That umbrageous Old Person of Spain.

Rolling clouds of greasy smoke,
Crashing giant trees;
Roaring, flashing, fiendish flames,
Upon an angry breeze.
Frightened, fleeing, bird and beast,
Shrieking in despair—
The ugly demon, forest fire,
Is on another tear.

There was an Old Man in a marsh,
Whose manners were futile and harsh;
He sat on a log, and sang songs to a frog,
That instructive Old Man in a marsh.

The robin and the wren
Are God Almighty's cock and hen.
The martin and the swallow
Are God Almighty's bow and arrow.

Rob me and maim me! Why, man, take such pains
On your bare heath to hang yourself in chains?