Poems and Songs by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
page 25 of 290 (08%)
page 25 of 290 (08%)
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"Dear me, don't you want to be out in this fine
weather?" --said mother, who sat on the steps and sang. It was such a lovely sunshine-day, The house and the yard couldn't hold me; A meadow I found, on my back I lay, And sang what my spirit told me; Then snakes came crawling, a fathom long, To bask in the sun,--I fled with my song. "In such blessed weather we can go barefoot,"--said mother, as she pulled off her stockings. It was such a lovely sunshine-day, The house and the yard couldn't hold me; I loosened a boat, on my back I lay, While blithely the current bowled me; But hot grew the sun, and peeled my nose; Enough was enough, and to land I chose. "Now these are just the days to make hay in,"-- said mother, as she stuck the rake in it. It was such a lovely sunshine-day, The house and the yard couldn't hold me; I climbed up a tree, oh, what bliss to play, As cooling the breeze consoled me; But worms soon fell on my neck, by chance, And jumping, I cried: "'T is the Devil's own dance!" |
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