I have a little brother,
And his name is Little Lewy;
His starry eyes are bright as flowers
And they are twice as dewy.
Sometimes the dew o'erflows them,
And trickles down his cheeks;
And then he cries so hard, you'd think
He wouldn't stop for weeks.
Then my other little brother,
A bough of willow bringing,
Drives all the dew-drops far away,
By waving it and singing:

[Illustration]

"One, two, free, fo', five, six, _seven_ tears!
You'll be as old as farver in forty sousand years.
Drate big men don't have tears, so let me wipe 'em dry;
In forty sousand years from now you'll never, never cry."

This other little brother,
Whose name is Little Bert,
Frowns in a dreadful manner
Whenever he is hurt;
The wrinkles right above his nose
Look like the letter M,
He keeps them there so long, he must
Be very fond of them.