All the horns from all his sheep,
Sadly bound them on his head,
Just as though a friend was dead?
Said he, 'tis because the River,
Dried his waters up forever,
Since he saw the Wolf's despair,
When he shed his shaggy hair.
For the Palm tree he had seen,
Shedding all his branches green,
For he saw the glossy raven,
Looking so forlorn and craven,
As he dropped a downy feather,
Like the snow in winter weather.
He saw the brilliant bug weeping,
And his sad watch keeping,
Alas, Alas, Ah me!
Over the Noble Flea!
Mother sad began to cry,
Thrust her needle in her eye;
Could no longer see her thread,
Since she heard the flea was dead.
Then the Father grave and bland,
Hearing this, _cut off his hand_;
And the daughter, when she hears,
In despair, _cuts off her ears_;
And through the town deep grief is spread,
Because they heard the flea was dead.


THE NURSERY RHYMES OF THE ARABS.