"wee! wee!"

"My dear little piggies," said one of the brats,
"My dear little brothers," said he,
"Let us all for the future say, 'grumph! grumph! grumph!'
'Tis so childish to say, 'wee! wee!'"

Let us all, etc.

These three little piggies grew skinny and lean,
And lean they might very well be,
For somehow they couldn't say "grumph! grumph! grumph!"
And they wouldn't say "wee! wee!"

For somehow, etc.

So after a time these little pigs died,
They all died of fe-lo-de-see,
From trying too hard to say "grumph! grumph! grumph!"
When they only could say "wee! wee!"

From trying, etc.

A moral there is to this little song,
A moral that's easy to see:
Don't try when you're young to say "grumph! grumph! grumph!"
When you only can say "wee! wee!"
Don't try when you're young to say "grumph! grumph! grumph!"
When you only can say "wee! wee!"

Another delectable song for children--also of a subtly didactic
character--is

COWE THE NETTLE EARLY.

Gin ye be for lang kail,
Cowe the nettle, stoo the nettle:
Gin ye be for lang kail,
Cowe the nettle early.

Cowe it laich, cowe it sune,
Cowe it in the month o' June;
Stoo it ere it's in the bloom,
Cowe the nettle early.

Cowe it by the old wa's,
Cowe it where the sun ne'er fa's,
Stoo it when the day daws,
Cowe the nettle early.

Auld heuk wi' no ae tooth,
Cowe the nettle, stoo the nettle;
Auld gluive wi' leather loof,
Cowe the nettle early.

The following curious song, which Mrs. Burns, the wife of the poet, was
fond of crooning to her children, is not yet without some vogue outwith
the printed page--though mainly in this verse, the place of which, by
the bye, would be difficult to fix in the song as printed by Herd:--

The robin cam' to the wren's door,
And keekit in, and keekit in:
O, blessings on your bonnie pow,
Wad ye be in, wad ye be in?
I wadna let you lie thereout,
And I within, and I within,
As lang's I hae a warm clout,
To row ye in, to row ye in.

To students of Burns it will ever be of prime interest from the fact
that its air, as played by Miss Jessie Lewars to the poet only a few
days before his death, supplied the hint for his most tender and
touching lyric, "O Wert them in the Cauld Blast." Herd prints it
thus:--

THE WREN'S NEST.

The wren scho lyes in care's bed