Читать книгу Happy Days for Boys and Girls - Various - Страница 43

ROBIN, Robin Redbreast,

O, Robin, dear!

And what will this poor Robin do?

For pinching days are near.

The fireside for the cricket,

The wheat-stack for the mouse,

When trembling night winds whistle,

And moan all round the house.

The frosty way like iron,

The branches plumed with snow —

Alas! in winter, dead and dark,

Where can poor Robin go?

Robin, Robin Redbreast,

O, Robin dear!

And a crumb of bread for Robin,

His little heart to cheer.