Works

"Rock a bye, babies,
Your cradle hangs high;
Soft down your pillow,
Your curtain the sky.
Father will feed you,
While mother will sing,
And shelter our darlings
With her warm wing."

"Rosy, my dear,
Don't cry,--I'm here
To help you all I can.
I'm only a fly,
But you'll see that I
Will keep my word like a man."

Two Yankee maids of simple mien,
And earnest, high endeavour,
Come sailing to the land of France,
To escape the winter weather.
When first they reached that vicious shore
They scorned the native ways,...