The shorter Globe readers, compiled and ed. by A.F. Murison. Standard 2-6, Book 2

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Alexander Falconer Murison

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Page 1 - Cuckoo, jug-jug., pu-we^ to-witta-woo! The palm and may make country houses gay, Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day, And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay, Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo.
Page 19 - UP the airy mountain, Down the rushy glen, We daren't go a-hunting For fear of little men; Wee folk, good folk, Trooping all together; Green jacket, red cap, And white owl's feather! Down along the rocky shore Some make their home, They live on crispy pancakes Of yellow tide-foam ; Some in the reeds Of the black mountain lake, With frogs for their watch-dogs, All night awake.
Page 64 - UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE' UNDER the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat; Come hither, come hither, come hither: Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather. Who doth ambition shun And loves to live i...
Page 121 - A FAREWELL. My fairest child, I have no song to give you ; No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray : Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you For every day. Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever ; Do noble things, not dream them, all day long : And so make life, death, and that vast for-ever One grand, sweet song.
Page 20 - He's nigh lost his wits. With a bridge of white mist Columbkill he crosses, On his stately journeys From Slieveleague to Rosses ; Or going up with music On cold starry nights, To sup with the Queen Of the gay Northern Lights.
Page 92 - They have left their nests in the forest bough ; Those homes of delight they need not now ; And the young and the old they wander out, And traverse their green world round about : And hark ! at the top of this leafy hall, How one to the other they lovingly call ;
Page 20 - By the craggy hill-side, Through the mosses bare, They have planted thorn-trees For pleasure here and there. Is any man so daring As dig them up in spite, He shall find their sharpest thorns In his bed at night.
Page 1 - tis the ravished nightingale. " Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu," she cries, And still her woes at midnight rise. Brave prick-song ! who is't now we hear ? None but the lark so shrill and clear ; Now at heaven's gates she claps her wings, The morn not waking till she sings. Hark, hark, with what a pretty throat, Poor robin redbreast tunes his note ; Hark how the jolly cuckoos sing, Cuckoo to welcome in the spring...
Page 93 - Come up, come up, for the world is fair, Where the merry leaves dance in the summer air ! " And the birds below give back the cry, " We come, we come, to the branches high...
Page 21 - In his bed. at night. Up the airy mountain, Down the rushy glen, We daren't go a-hunting For fear of little men ; Wee folk, good folk, Trooping all together ; Green jacket, red cap, And white owl's feather ! W.

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