Come and Play in The Garden
Little
sister,
come
away,
And
let
us
in
the
garden
play,
For
it
is
a
pleasant
day.
On
the
grass-plat
let
us
sit,
Or,
if
you
please,
we'll
play
a
bit,
And
run
about
all
over
it.
But
the
fruit
we
will
not
pick,
For
that
would
be
a
naughty
trick,
And
very
likely
make
us
sick.
Nor
will
we
pluck
the
pretty
flowers
That
grow
about
the
beds
and
bowers,
Because
you
know
they
are
not
ours.
We'll
take
the
daisies,
white
and
red,
Because
mamma
has
often
said
That
we
may
gather
then
instead.
And
much
I
hope
we
always
may
Our
very
dear
mamma
obey,
And
mind
whatever
she
may
say.