Читать книгу The Cambridge Book of Poetry for Children - Various - Страница 61

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Drummer-boy, drummer-boy, where is your drum?

And why do you weep, sitting here on your thumb?

The soldiers are out, and the fifes we can hear;

But where is the drum of the young grenadier?

“My dear little drum it was stolen away

Whilst I was asleep on a sunshiny day;

It was all through the drone of a big bumblebee,

And sheep and a shepherdess under a tree.”

Shepherdess, shepherdess, where is your crook?

And why is your little lamb over the brook?

It bleats for its dam, and dog Tray is not by,

So why do you stand with a tear in your eye?

“My dear little crook it was stolen away

Whilst I dreamt a dream on a morning in May;

It was all through the drone of a big bumblebee,

And a drum and a drummer-boy under a tree.”

W. B. Rands.