 | Verse-tales, Lyrics and Translations |  |
21
CREEPING JENNY.
Two little Jennies we are; you and I, Jenny my dear;
I wish I could see you better! I wish you were nearer me here!
I see a good lot o' your green, but your blossoms are turned to the light;
Your blossoms so many and bonny, your blossoms so yellow and bright.
I wish I could see you better! I wish you were nearer me here!
I see a good lot o' your green, but your blossoms are turned to the light;
Your blossoms so many and bonny, your blossoms so yellow and bright.
Dear little Jenny, I wish I might have you by me in bed;
But you wouldn't like it at all; you'd curl up your leaves, Tom said,
And your blossoms, he told me, would droop and die away, one by one,
For the light isn't good for my head, and you're so fond o' the sun.
But you wouldn't like it at all; you'd curl up your leaves, Tom said,
And your blossoms, he told me, would droop and die away, one by one,
For the light isn't good for my head, and you're so fond o' the sun.
Your sweet little yellow blossoms! I know just how they go!
I've seen 'em, and so I can see 'em again without eyes, you know;
But there's plenty and plenty o' things, I well can see and hear
That I never have seen or heard, and I need not eye nor ear.
I've seen 'em, and so I can see 'em again without eyes, you know;
But there's plenty and plenty o' things, I well can see and hear
That I never have seen or heard, and I need not eye nor ear.
22
I'll tell you o' some o' these, the wonderful things I see
While I'm lying here on my bed—there's water a-running free,
I see it splashing along over stones black, grey, and white,
And I watch it until it gets almost away from my sight.
While I'm lying here on my bed—there's water a-running free,
I see it splashing along over stones black, grey, and white,
And I watch it until it gets almost away from my sight.
Ah, now, it is nearly hid! O Jenny, it's true, it's true,
With masses and masses o' green, and all that green is you;
You, little Jenny, who look so nice and cool and sweet
With your dear little, green little legs, and your dear little, green little feet.
With masses and masses o' green, and all that green is you;
You, little Jenny, who look so nice and cool and sweet
With your dear little, green little legs, and your dear little, green little feet.
O Jenny, I love to see it! I love to see it! it's all
In the beautiful, wonderful place, that folks the country call:
I think how the birdies sing, and I think o' the flowers and the grass,
And I know the children are happy—they laugh and sing as they pass.
In the beautiful, wonderful place, that folks the country call:
I think how the birdies sing, and I think o' the flowers and the grass,
And I know the children are happy—they laugh and sing as they pass.
And you, little Jenny, there, in your lovely ditch all day
Have nothing on earth to do except to be green and gay:
And wouldn't one think that, if here, in London, you're bright with gold,
You'd be there a thousand times brighter, with yellow blossoms untold?
Have nothing on earth to do except to be green and gay:
And wouldn't one think that, if here, in London, you're bright with gold,
You'd be there a thousand times brighter, with yellow blossoms untold?
But it isn't so at all! The other way it is!
In London town, my dear, where one would think you'd miss
The beautiful water that washes your feet and keeps 'em green,
It's here that ten times as much o' your golden bloom is seen.
In London town, my dear, where one would think you'd miss
The beautiful water that washes your feet and keeps 'em green,
It's here that ten times as much o' your golden bloom is seen.
23
There, in your old red pot, hung up to catch the sun
That comes to that window of ours the most o' the afternoon,
You blossom and blossom as never you do in that stream so sweet,
Where the water is cool and clean about your wandering feet.
That comes to that window of ours the most o' the afternoon,
You blossom and blossom as never you do in that stream so sweet,
Where the water is cool and clean about your wandering feet.
You run to greenness only, you gain but little o' gold,
The beautiful gold you give us, in just that morsel o' mould:
I'm very glad of it, Jenny, so glad that it is just so;
I never shall see that stream, nor the green o' the country, you know.
The beautiful gold you give us, in just that morsel o' mould:
I'm very glad of it, Jenny, so glad that it is just so;
I never shall see that stream, nor the green o' the country, you know.
Can you guess who told me this? There's only one it could be,
Teacher—Tom's Sunday teacher—she told it all to me;
And she told me more than this—she gave me the meaning too—
It was such a pretty meaning, I like to tell it to you.
Teacher—Tom's Sunday teacher—she told it all to me;
And she told me more than this—she gave me the meaning too—
It was such a pretty meaning, I like to tell it to you.
It's very nice and it's true—for Teacher says it's true,
That everything means something else—and always means itself too:
And this means—why, Jenny, it means—it's good for folks to do
The things they don't quite like, for instance, me and you.
That everything means something else—and always means itself too:
And this means—why, Jenny, it means—it's good for folks to do
The things they don't quite like, for instance, me and you.
For you, when you leave your streams, and come to a place so dull,
Instead of growing less pretty, are twice as beautiful:
Flowers and flowers, gold flowers, for Tom and Mother and me,
Instead of hardly a flower, and plenty o' green to see.
Instead of growing less pretty, are twice as beautiful:
Flowers and flowers, gold flowers, for Tom and Mother and me,
Instead of hardly a flower, and plenty o' green to see.
24
And I'm always a-lying here! I can't even creep like you!
Lame Jenny, and Creeping Jenny, those are the names for us two!
And I can't do nothing for Mother, so helpless and ill am I,
And you know, when I lay here first, how I used to sob and cry!
Lame Jenny, and Creeping Jenny, those are the names for us two!
And I can't do nothing for Mother, so helpless and ill am I,
And you know, when I lay here first, how I used to sob and cry!
But it hurt poor Mother sore; and at last, one day, I said
I'd try so hard, so hard, to be very good instead.
And Mother kissed me so sweet, and held me so fast do you know,
It was almost nice to be ill to feel her love me so.
I'd try so hard, so hard, to be very good instead.
And Mother kissed me so sweet, and held me so fast do you know,
It was almost nice to be ill to feel her love me so.
And Teacher says there are flowers that grow in a sick child's room,
Called Patience, and Love, and Trust, much better than golden bloom.
Lame Jenny may blossom with these, away from her play and fun—
Good night, little Creeping Jenny, the daylight is past and done.
Called Patience, and Love, and Trust, much better than golden bloom.
Lame Jenny may blossom with these, away from her play and fun—
Good night, little Creeping Jenny, the daylight is past and done.
| Verse-tales, Lyrics and Translations | |