Willie and Bess, Georgie and May
Once, as these children were hard at play,
An old man, hoary and tottering, came
And watched them playing their pretty game.
He seemed to wonder, while standing there,
What the meaning thereof could be
Ah, but the old man yearned to share
Of the little childrens innocent glee
As they circled around with laugh and shout
And told their rime at counting out:
Intry-mintry, cutrey-corn,
Apple-seed and apple-thorn;
Wire, brier, limber, lock,
Twelve geese in a flock;
Some flew east, some flew west,
Some flew over the cuckoos nest!
Willie and Bess, Georgie and May
Ah, the mirth of that summer day!
Twas Father Time who had come to share
The innocent joy of those children there;
He learned betimes the game they played
And into their sport with them went he
How could the children have been afraid,
Since little they recked who he might be?
They laughed to hear old Father Time
Mumbling that curious nonsense rime
Of Intry-mintry, cutrey-corn,
Apple-seed and apple-thorn;
Wire, brier, limber, lock,
Twelve geese in a flock;
Some flew east, some flew west,
Some flew over the cuckoos nest!
Willie and Bess, Georgie and May,
And joy of summer where are they?
The grim old man still standeth near
Crooning the song of a far-off year;
And into the winter I come alone,
Cheered by that mournful requiem,
Soothed by the dolorous monotone
That shall count me off as it counted them
The solemn voice of old Father Time
Chanting the homely nursery rime
He learned of the children a summer more
When, with apple-seed and apple-thorn,
Life was full of the dulcet cheer
That brings the grace of heaven near
The sound of the little ones hard at play
Willie and Bess, Georgie and May.
