NINE O'CLOCK.

Nine of the clock, oh!

Wake my lazy head!

Your shoes of red morocco,

Your silk bed-gown:

Rouse, rouse, speck-eyed Mary

In your high bed!

A yawn, a smile, sleepy-starey,

Mary climbs down.

“Good-morning to my brothers,

Good-day to the Sun,

Halloo, halloo to the lily-white sheep

That up the mountain run.”