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They almost devour me with kisses,

Their arms about me entwine,
Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen

In his Mouse Tower on the Rhine!

Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti,

Because you have scaled the wall, Such an old moustache as I am

Is not a match for you all ?

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I have you fast in my fortress

And will not let you depart,
But put you down in the dungeon

In the round-tower of my heart.

And there I will keep you for ever,

Yes, for ever and a day,
Till the walls shall crumble and ruin,
And moulder in dust away!


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“What is this pretty little thing, That nurse so carefully doth bring, And round its head a blanket fling?

A baby!

“Oh dear, how very soft its cheek; Why nurse, I cannot make it speak, And it can't walk, it is so weak.

A baby!”

“Why, you were once a baby too, And could not jump as now you do, But good mamma took care of you,

Like baby.

" And then she taught your little feet

To pat along the carpet neat,
And callid papa to come and meet

His baby

O, dear mamma, to take such care, And no kind pains and trouble spare To feed and nurse you when you were

A baby."


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Two Robin Redbreasts built their nests

Within a hollow tree;
The hen sat quietly at home,

The cock sang merrily;
And all the little young ones said,

“ Wee, wee, wee, wee, wee, wee."

One day (the sun was warm and bright,

And shining in the sky)
Cock-robin said, “ My little dears,

'Tis time you learn to fly;
And all the little young ones said,
“I'll try, I'll try, I'll try."

I know a child, and who she is

I'll tell you by-and-by, When mamma says, “ Do this," or " that," She says,

6 What for ? and “Why ?” She'd be a better child by far If she would say, "I'll try."


Down upon my pillow warm,

I now lay my little head,
And the wind, and rain, and storm

Cannot come too nigh my bed.
Many little children poor

Have not anywhere to go ;
And sad hardships they endure,

Such as I did never know.

Dear mamma, I'll thank you oft

For this comfortable bed,
And this pretty pillow soft,
Where I rest my weary

And I'll lift my heart in prayer

To the God that dwells above;
Thank Him for His watchful care,

And for all His tender love.


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Baby, baby, lay your head
On your pretty cradle bed ;
Shut your eye-peeps, now the day
And the light are gone away;
All the clothes are tuck'd in tight;
Little baby, dear, good night.
Yes, my darling, well I know
How the bitter wind doth blow;
And the winter's snow and rain
Patter on the window-pane :
But they cannot come in here,
To my little baby dear;

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