To and fro, to and fro
In my little boat I go
Sailing far across the sea
All alone, just little me.
In the middle of our porridge plates
There was a blue butterfly painted
And each morning we tried who should reach the
Now this is the story of Olaf
Who ages and ages ago
Lived right on the top of a mountain,
A mountain all covered with snow.
Now's the time when children's noses
All become as red as roses
And the colour of their faces
Makes me think of orchard places
Across the red sky two birds flying,
Flying with drooping wings.
Silent and solitary their ominous flight.
All day the triumphant sun with yellow banners
These be two
What a size!
Grand big arms
Outside the sky is light with stars;
There's a hollow roaring from the sea.
And, alas! for the little almond flowers,
The wind is shaking the almond tree.
Babies must not eat the coal
And they must not make grimaces,
Nor in party dresses roll
And must never black their faces.
Rain and wind, and wind and rain.
Will the Summer come again?
Rain on houses, on the street,
Wetting all the people's feet,
Half-Past-Six and I were talking
In a very grown-up way;
We had got so tired with running
That we did not want to play.