The Boy on the Farm

The Boy on the Farm.
176.6

I’ve put away my tired skates,
My sled is on the “bum.”
My overshoes I’ll need no more
I’m glad ‘at summer’s come.

I’ve got a bran-new jack-knife-
I’ll make the whistles hum;
I know just where the willows grow-
I’m glad ‘at summer’s come.

The cows down in the pasture,
Hear my gentle whistle come,
An’ know it’s time for exercise-
I’m glad ‘at summer’s come.
To wash your feet ‘at waded
Is lots more jolly fun,
While mamma tells nice storles-
I’m glad ‘at summer’s come.
Anon

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