Mother

     Alice, dear, what ails you,
       Dazed and white and shaken?
     Has the chill night numbed you?
       Is it fright you have taken?

        Alice

     Mother, I am very well,
       I felt never better,
     Mother, do not hold me so,
       Let me write my letter.

        Mother

     Sweet, my dear, what ails you?

        Alice

     No, but I am well;
     The night was cold and frosty,
     There's no more to tell.

        Mother

     Ay, the night was frosty,
       Coldly gaped the moon,
     Yet the birds seemed twittering
       Through green boughs of June.

     Soft and thick the snow lay,
       Stars danced in the sky.
     Not all the lambs of May-day
       Skip so bold and high.

     Your feet were dancing, Alice,
       Seemed to dance on air,
     You looked a ghost or angel
       In the starlight there.

     Your eyes were frosted starlight,
     Your heart fire and snow.
     Who was it said, "I love you"?

        Alice

       Mother, let me go!

     "Make a song, father, a new little song,
        All for Jenny and Nancy."
      Balow lalow or Hey derry down,
        Or else what might you fancy?

      Is there any song sweet enough
        For Nancy and for Jenny?
       Said Simple Simon to the pieman,
        "Indeed I know not any."

     "I've counted the miles to Babylon,
        I've flown the earth like a bird,
      I've ridden cock-horse to Banbury Cross,
        But no such song have I heard."

     "Some speak of Alexander,
        And some of Hercules,
      But where are there any like Nancy and Jenny,
        Where are there any like these?"

        Mother

     Oh, what a heavy sigh!
       Dicky, are you ailing?

        Dicky

     Even by this fireside, mother,
       My heart is failing.

     To-night across the down,
       Whistling and jolly,
     I sauntered out from town
       With my stick of holly.

     Bounteous and cool from sea
       The wind was blowing,
     Cloud shadows under the moon
       Coming and going.

     I sang old roaring songs,
       Ran and leaped quick,
     And turned home by St. Swithin's
       Twirling my stick.

     And there as I was