Have you ever heard the wind go "Yooooo"?
      'T is a pitiful sound to hear!
      It seems to chill you through and through
      With a strange and speechless fear.
      'T is the voice of the night that broods outside
      When folk should be asleep,
      And many and many's the time I've cried
      To the darkness brooding far and wide
      Over the land and the deep:
      "Whom do you want, O lonely night,
      That you wail the long hours through?"
      And the night would say in its ghostly way:
          "Yoooooooo!
           Yoooooooo!
           Yoooooooo!"

      My mother told me long ago
      (When I was a little tad)
      That when the night went wailing so,
      Somebody had been bad;
      And then, when I was snug in bed,
      Whither I had been sent,
      With the blankets pulled up round my head,
      I'd think of what my mother'd said,
      And wonder what boy she meant!
      And "Who's been bad to-day?" I'd ask
      Of the wind that hoarsely blew,
      And the voice would say in its meaningful way:
          "Yoooooooo!
           Yoooooooo!
           Yoooooooo!"

      That this was true I must allow—
      You'll not believe it, though!
      Yes, though I'm quite a model now,
      I was not always so.
      And if you doubt what things I say,
      Suppose you make the test;
      Suppose, when you've been bad some day
      And up to bed are sent away
      From mother and the rest—
      Suppose you ask, "Who has been bad?"
      And then you'll hear what's true;
      For the wind will moan in its ruefulest tone:
          "Yoooooooo!
           Yoooooooo!
           Yoooooooo!"

      'T is when the lark goes soaring
      And the bee is at the bud,
      When lightly dancing zephyrs
      Sing over field and flood;
      When all sweet things in nature
      Seem joyfully achime—
      'T is then I wake my darling,
      For it is kissing time!

      Go, pretty lark, a-soaring,
      And suck your sweets, O bee;
      Sing, O ye winds of summer,
      Your songs to mine and me;
      For with your song and rapture
      Cometh the moment when
      It's half-past kissing time
      And time to kiss again!

      So—so the days go