SONGS FOR THE

I go out with the haymakers,
And tumble on the hay ;
They put me up upon the load,
And home we drive away.

I go into the pleasant fields
And gather berries bright ;

They ve many, many thousands there,
All fresh and sweet and ripe.

A pretty brook runs through the farm
Singing so soft and sweet ;

I sit upon the grassy bank,
And bathe my little feet.

A farmer I would like to be,
They live so pleasantly ;

They must be happy while they work,
Singing so cheerfully.

I think I’ll save all that I get,
And earn all that I can,

And buy me such a pleasant farm

When I grow up a man.