The Rabbit

THE moon is shining o’er the field,

A little breeze is blowing,

The radish leaves are crisp and green,

The lettuces are growing.

The owl is in the ivy-bush,

With both his eyes a-winking ;

The rabbit shakes his little tail,

And sits him down a-thinking–

“Oh ! where are all the dormice gone ?

And are the frogs a-vooing ?

Will no one come to play with me ?

What are they all a-doing ?”

Poor little rabbit, all alone,

Don’t let the master meet you ;

He’ll shoot you with his little gun,

And merrily he’ll eat you !

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