Three merry boys, and three merry boys,
And three merry boys are we.
As ever did sing in a hempen string
Under the gallows tree.

The three-toed tree-toad
Sings his sweet ode
To the moon;
The funny bunny
And his honey
Trip in tune.

Ah, were men's voices like the wood-birds' melody— Each happy note distinct, but all in harmony!

"Once more, my gallant boys!" he cried:
"Three times! — you know the fable, — (I'll make it thirty," muttered he, "But I will lay the cable!")

I was allowed to slave for them
For ever and evermore.
Oh, I was allowed to fetch and carry
For my Three Brothers,
Jim and Bob and Harry.

At their parting they say [A Boy! merry meet, merry part.]

'Twas in the prime of summer-time
An evening calm and cool,
And four-and-twenty happy boys
Came bounding out of school:
There were some that ran and some that leapt,
Like troutlets in a pool.

For the good are always the merry, Save by an evil chance, And the merry love the fiddle, And the merry love to dance.

My father moved through theys of we,
singing each new leaf out of each tree,
(and every child was sure that spring
danced when she heard my father sing)...

Rather dear, those boys.

There were three sisters, three little sisters,
And each one was only in her teens,
And one loved a soldier, and one loved a sailor,
And one loved a man from the marines.

Now out upon you, Christmas !
Is this the merry time When the red hearth blazed, the harper sung,
And the bells rung their glorious chime ? . . .