 | Mother Pitcher's poems For Little People |  |
47
The Indian Fairies.
Down in the pond, where turtles dive,
Are little green fairies, all alive;
There they swim, and there they sleep,
Down in the water ever so deep.
Are little green fairies, all alive;
There they swim, and there they sleep,
Down in the water ever so deep.
There never were people half so neat;
They scrub the rocks with hands and feet;
They polish the stones wherever they're found;
And that's what makes the pebbles so round.
They scrub the rocks with hands and feet;
They polish the stones wherever they're found;
And that's what makes the pebbles so round.
48
And when you walk by the water bright,
And find a pebble round and white,
You may see for yourself what the fairies do,
Who placed it there as a present for you.
And find a pebble round and white,
You may see for yourself what the fairies do,
Who placed it there as a present for you.
| Mother Pitcher's poems For Little People | |