Tripping through the meadows, wading in the brook,
Telling daisy fortunes in a shady nook.
Filling hat and apron full of pretty flowers,
Weaving dainty garlands in the shady bowers.
Peeping through the branches for the little nests
Of the little birdies with the scarlet breasts
Softly counting over all the eggs so blue;
Robin in the tree top knows her friends so true;
Knows the little fingers will not harm her nest;
Pours a song of gladness from her little breast.
Happy little children! playing 'mong the flowers,
Birds and bees, and brooklets, all the summer hours.
Ahhh there you go, a touch of sunshine. Rain again
tomorrow. Diddily dee dot